


Strangers on a Train

by helliongoddess



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M, Mystery, Romance, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-22
Updated: 2010-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helliongoddess/pseuds/helliongoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanzo receives a mysterious message summoning him back to Chang'an.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

It had been too soon after they had been reunited. They had wanted – needed - to get back into the old familiar rhythm of their battles, of watching each other's backs, of knowing just where to be at what moment to catch the youkai before they could strike, and thereby save each other from the often irrational moves of the demons under the effect of the Minus Wave, but this time it was too soon. Sanzo was still uneasy about the dark presence he had sensed following him since Goku had been shot, and was troubled by the suspicions he had about that, and Goku was unusually distracted, with his mind dwelling on the young girl that had given him his first kiss and then been blown up before his eyes. Even best friends Hakkai and Gojyo were feeling clumsy and out of sync, far from their usual automatic mode of beautifully-synchronized movements in battle, where, like in most other aspects of their lives, each knew what the other was going to do well before they did it.

The unfortunate result was that though they had clearly won the battle when the unusually huge gang of heavily-armed youkai had set upon them in the mountain pass shortly after they had reunited and set off on the road again, it had not been without suffering some major damages. Goku's leg had been broken quite badly when he had jumped in-between Sanzo and several substantial youkai brandishing heavy, sharp pikestaffs in the direction of the monk's back, and Hakuryuu had been injured when he had reverted quickly to jeep form to intervene in a melee where both Gojyo and Hakkai were under attack, outnumbered, and appeared to be losing ground quickly.

Later when it was over and they finally got to an inn, the little dragon was able to transform back to his small winged form, but the combined exertions of the day caused him to collapse, and the degree of injury he had sustained saving his friends quickly became apparent to Hakkai. Forgoing dinner, he hastily grabbed one of the room keys from Sanzo and carried Hakuryuu up to begin tending to his friend's injuries. Goku assured them that he absolutely wanted to eat first, begging that Gojyo could carry him up afterwards, and Hakkai could work on his leg then, and finish the healing work he had begun at the battle site.

It was only when they were all sitting at dinner that Sanzo remembered the envelope he had been handed by the desk clerk when he checked them in. It was not unusual for him to occasionally receive missives from the temple back in Chang'an: they had a rough idea what their route would be, and would occasionally send messages to him in care of inns they considered likely stops for the Ikkou along the way. They were usually inconsequential trivia that he would give a cursory read and immediately disregard: announcements that some old monk he could care less about had died, or annoying nudges to keep expenses down, stay on-task, and get West in a more timely manner, or some such nonsense. As if he cared. Consequently he hadn't been at all concerned about this one he had just received, but he noticed as he pulled it out that it looked different from the routine dispatches that usually dogged his path westward. As he opened it he realized that this was a telegram, it was marked "in care of the Chang'an Temple", and for his eyes only, and it had clearly originated from the Sanbutsushin, bearing their holy seal.

"TO: Priest Genjyo Sanzo 31st, URGENT  
Sanbutsushin decree it necessary you return Chang'an immediately for important information regarding your Mission. Say you must put your trust in them, whether you truly believe or not. Info can only be relayed in person, must be ASAP.  
Signed, Xuan Zang, Head Abbot, Chang'An Temple, his seal."

"Fucking bloody blue hell." He lit a cigarette and stared out the window listlessly. "We've been on the road for-fucking-ever, we just get back on the road after the diversion from hell, our 'transportation' is upstairs sick as a dog, and now they want me to come all the way back?!"

Goku and Gojyo stared at him, their eyes wide, chopsticks-full of food halfway to the mouths that were hanging open in shock.

"Fucking bloody fucking hell," he muttered again bitterly, stabbing his cigarette, not even fully-smoked, out in the ashtray. He swilled down the beer he had and signaled irritably to the waitress for another one before lighting another cigarette.

Gojyo couldn't stand it any longer. "Oi! Monk! Care to share with us what has your knickers in such a big knot?"

Sanzo slowly emerged from his furor enough to realize there were actually other people at the table, not that he particularly cared.

"Tch. Goddamn Talking Heads. Maybe I'll just go back and stay back," he mused bitterly. "Fucking serve 'em right…"

"Something we've all considered now and then," Gojyo agreed glumly. "Care to let us in on why it's on your mind right at this moment?"

Sanzo gritted his teeth and fumed, his blasphemies regarding the Three Aspects being the least of his concerns at the moment. "Fucking Morons want me to come all the fucking way back to fucking Chang'an so they can tell me some little fucking detail… Apparently they can send me a telegram," he waved the guilty document squashed in his clenched fist, "to tell me to come back, but not to tell me what the fucking hell they need to actually tell me."

"Well, that doesn't make much sense," Goku innocently volunteered.

"Gee, do YA THINK?" Sanzo glared, his finger twitching on the gun in the pocket of his robe, just wishing someone would give him a reason to shoot.

"Err… sorry," Goku gulped. He went back to eating his food, filching Gojyo's last bits now that the kappa's attention was diverted.

"Look, your highness, it's your show, as you love to tell us at every opportunity, but how can you be so sure it's from them? Could be a trick, y'know?" Gojyo took a long swig of his beer and tried to sneak a look at the crumpled paper in Sanzo's hands.

"Tch. Don't you think that was the first thing that crossed my mind, moron?" Sanzo said crossly as he paused and drained his beer. "Unfortunately, I'm not that lucky. They used some terminology in the telegram that was something only I would recognize. Sort of like a password, I suppose."

"Look, Sanzo…" Gojyo tried to sound sensible, wiping the sweat from his palms off on the legs of his jeans, "they must have a damn good reason, to call us all the way back when we've come this far…gone through all this…"

"Who said anything about US, cockroach?" Sanzo spat, "it says 'I' am to come back. It doesn't say a damn thing about you and the rest of this three-ring madhouse on wheels. Besides, how the hell is the whole band of merry men supposed to get there even if they did? Aren't you forgetting something? They want me NOW and we have a sick dragon upstairs."

The hard frost in Sanzo's violet eyes warned Gojyo not to argue with him, unless he wanted to end up with some freshly-ventilated body parts.

"And a monkey with a fucking broken leg…" he added coldly, casting a jaded eye on the saru, "which apparently has not affected his appetite in the least."

"Yeah, tell me," Gojyo said, stabbing Goku's hand with his chopstick as the teen attempted to steal his last tiny scrap of food from his plate. "So what're ya gonna do, Sanzo-sama? Just send 'em a note saying 'fuck off', and head on to India when the flying rat is better? Makes sense to me."

"Great idea, but what if they are calling me back to tell me to call off the fucking mission for some reason? Don't think I wouldn't love an excuse to just stop this sorry-ass wild goose chase, if that's what they're going to give me." Sanzo downed the rest of his beer again, and looked at the empty bottle in disgust, peeling the label bit by bit off of its sweating brown glass.

"Wouldn't they just send you a telegram saying that, if that's what it was?" Gojyo signaled to the waitress for one more round of drinks, and pushed his chair back and leaned back on two legs, his arms crossed across his chest.

Sanzo sighed heavily, trying in his mind, now that he was over the initial furor the telegram had invoked in him, to sort out the possible implications and ramifications of it all.

"Not necessarily," he said slowly. "Just depends on what was behind it, how they wanted me to handle it, who the fuck knows? I've never understood why they do anything they do… They're fucking divine floating heads, for goddssake." He looked up from the innocent paper napkin he was now dismembering into hundreds of tiny bits as he spoke, and raised one eyebrow dryly.   
"Like when they told me I had to take you assholes with me on this bullshit expedition. I'll never understand that one."

Goku piped up, his tongue apparently loosened by the herbal pain preparation Hakkai had given him to manage the pain in his leg.

"Aw jeez, Sanzo, you know you like us, and you'd miss us if you didn't…"

A blinding flash of white and a loud and instantaneous "THWACK!!" ended Goku's spontaneous sentiment as the harisen whipped out of the priest's robe and hit the side of the saru's head with lightening speed.

"Owww!!" Goku yowled, "how d' you do that so damn fast! Besides, ya didn't even know what I was gonna say…"

"You've said more than enough," Sanzo grumbled threateningly. "You're already gimped up in one leg, don't make me shoot you in the other, and then have to hear Hakkai whining about having to fix it."

"So, priesty-locks, what's your master plan?" Gojyo interrupted, attempting to save his young friend from further pain. "Looks to me like you're damned if you go and damned if you don't," he mused, enjoying Sanzo's difficult situation entirely too much as he smugly blew several smoke rings up into the muddled ether of the Café air while leaning back dangerously in his chair.

"I'm damned to hell if I'm going to be stuck here with you morons, that's for sure," Sanzo muttered grimly. "If there's any chance they might be planning to somehow release me from this slow train to hell they have me on, I want to find out as soon as possible. I guess I have to fucking get back to Chang'an to talk to them, and now."

"Nice thought, but I haven't exactly seen any major airports either here or in Chang'an, so that's out, and jippu is on the disabled list," Gojyo grinned, "what's left, camel? Wagon train? Magic carpet?" He grinned at the mental image of Sanzo sitting cross-legged on an ancient oriental rug whizzing through the air, the wind ruffling his tousled blond locks. Sanzo, of course, would still be trying to look bored, and only get irritated when the wind speed made lighting a cigarette difficult.

"If I'm not mistaken I saw a rail line running by the road off and on as we headed into town. I'm going to ask that desk clerk if there's a train station here. If there is, you assholes can wait here while I take the train to Chang'an and see what's up. It's no big deal, I'll just get on the train and see what they want, and come right back. If it changes anything significantly, I can send you a telegram here and tell you what to do – by then the jeep and the monkey both should be totally mended."

Gojyo sat his chair back down on all four legs, his face suddenly serious. Goku had stopped eating and was looking up with concern clearly written in his eyes well.

Gojyo spoke for both of them. "Sanzo, that route would take you right back through all the areas of the worst youkai shit we have been going through the whole way here, and so far as we know, the Minus Wave has only gotten worse. Who's to say they won't be robbing the train, or worse, especially if they get somehow get wind of you being on it? I don't like that idea. I don't like it at all…"

"Fuck off, cockroach. I traveled all over the world for a long time before I met up with you idiots and I got along just fine." He was amazed how well he said the blatant lie… if he could just convince himself, maybe at least some of the nightmares would stop. "Besides, I won't be alone. Mister Smith and Mister Wesson will be with me at all times." Yeah, that made it all better, didn't it? He managed to maintain the inscrutable sneer as he faced the worried faces of his companions.

Goku and Gojyo exchanged wary looks. They could hear from the stubborn tone in Sanzo's voice that they were not going to get anywhere with him on their own. They knew their best chance in dealing with him lay in the one person in the party he seemed to listen to the most, who was upstairs tending to the wounded dragon at the moment. Goku took the cue.

"Uhm, Gojyo, my leg is kinda starting to hurt again… I think I need Hakkai to take a look at it now. Can you help me upstairs?"

"Sure, monkey. Sanzo, we'll see you up there?"

"Tch. Yeah, whatever." Sanzo was lost in thought, and rose to pay the bill without any further conversation. As Gojyo helped Goku hobble past him (the youth absolutely refused to let his friend carry him once the time came) through the lobby of the inn, they overheard the priest speaking with the clerk about the location of the train station and the daily schedule.

They found Hakkai sitting and reading at a small table in his room, the little dragon resting quietly in a pile of pillows in a dark corner of the room. Gojyo carefully laid Goku down on top of the covers of the bed and took the bag of warm food the saru had been clutching from his hands.

"Here ya go, 'Kai, better eat up before the kid gets hungry again an' snarfs it. How's the rat?"

Hakkai sat up straight in his chair and pushed his monacle up on his nose with two fingers, giving his friends a tired smile.

"Thank you, Gojyo. I'll eat after I've had a look at that leg of Goku's. Hakuryuu is resting quietly now. I gave him something for his pain and to help him sleep, but I must confess I am more than a little concerned."

He shook his head as he rose, glancing fretfully at the pale, still form of the little dragon he had come to consider such a close friend.

"All I can really tell is that his injuries are quite serious, because his vital signs are obviously somewhat weakened, but his anatomy is so foreign to me, I have very little idea how to actually help the poor little fellow. I can apply healing chi where I sense damage, and carefully give him palliatives for the pain, and that's really all I can do. I just hope that's enough. Other than that, we just have to let him rest, I suppose."

His eyes lingered on Hakuryuu for a moment longer, and he forced himself to turn to his other patient, and smile far more brightly than he actually felt. "Now, Goku, let's have a look at that leg, shall we?"

Goku saw how worried the healer was about the smallest member of the Ikkou and felt guilty about requiring attention for his injury. "It's not that bad, 'Kai, I can wait. Go take care of Hakuryuu, and eat your dinner. I'm ok, really."

"Hmm," Hakkai pursed his lips and raised a critical eyebrow at the teen, "let's let me be the judge of that, shall we?"

Goku started to open his mouth about Sanzo while Hakkai was working on his leg, but Gojyo caught his eye and shook his head, motioning to him silently to wait. Only when Hakkai was satisfied that the leg was properly set, and had begun eating his dinner, did Gojyo begin to spill the story about the telegram from the Sanbutsushin, and Sanzo's intentions to take the train to Chang'an by himself.

"My goodness, that is quite a quandary," Hakkai said thoughtfully. "I really don't think it's wise for him to travel unaccompanied. It simply isn't safe. I know he thinks he is invulnerable, but really…"

Sanzo entered the room at that moment, and all three members of the Ikkou looked up at him with startled expressions.

"Tch. What's up with you morons?" he asked irritably. "You look like you just got caught with your hands in the boss's wife's cookie jar."

"Ahaha, nothing, Sanzo," Hakkai said casually, rising to dispose of the remains of his dinner, "I understand you are contemplating a train trip."

"Yeah. I found out I can leave tomorrow morning, and take the first train to Lanzhou. It takes four days to get there, going over the mountains. Apparently it's an antique locomotive built out of sticks and rocks." He lit a smoke and flopped down in the window seat. "You change trains there after an overnight layover, and it takes another five days to get to Chang'an. Tch. I could fucking walk there faster."

Hakkai smiled his patient, patronizing smile that they all knew all too well as he stood up from where he had been kneeling and checking on the sleeping dragon, trying his best not to disturb him.

"Now, Sanzo I think that's hardly accurate. But without our little friend here, I don't see that you have much choice, other than just ignoring the Sanbutsushin's telegram altogether. Are you a hundred percent sure it's from them, authentic?"

Sanzo shook his head, pursing his lips bitterly as he looked up at the healer, raising an eyebrow.

"That was the first thing I thought of, Hakkai." He pulled the telegram out of his robe and looked at it again, scanning it word-by-word, one more time. "If it's a fake, it's a damn good one," he sighed. "There's this phrase in here: 'you must put your trust in them, whether you truly believe or not.' That's a direct quote of something the Talking Heads said to me in one of the conversations when they gave me this goddamned mission."

"Jeez, Sanzo, you didn't even trust the goddamn Floating Heads, and you a Sanzo Priest?" Gojyo was incredulous. "Man, you really take the cake in the cynic department. And people call me jaded."

"Mind your own fucking business, cockroach," Sanzo spat out angrily. In no way did he want to have to go into detail with any of them about the conversation's true content, about how the Three Aspects had encouraged him to trust his three traveling companions, to observe them with the eyes of his heart and judge them accordingly. If he was honest, he knew they had already proven hundreds of times over they could be trusted, and for reasons far more important than just their resistance to the Minus Wave, but he was certainly in no mood to go into that with them at that moment, if ever.

"O.K., so I wasn't immediately bowled over about going on the road to nowhere with you three morons, for this wild goose chase from hell. Shame on me," he snarled. "As I recall, you weren't exactly wild about it, when I first proposed the idea to you, either."

Gojyo chuckled as he recalled himself practically spitting in the monk's face when Sanzo had approached him about joining him and Goku on their little field trip.

"Yeah, I do remember something along those lines," he snickered as he lit a smoke and settled opposite Sanzo on the window ledge. "Who'd have thought it, and look at us now: now you just can't live without me, eh, sugar britches?" He nudged Sanzo's leg with the toe of the socked foot he had propped up on the window ledge.

The only reason Sanzo didn't whack him soundly with the fan was because he was too cramped into the window frame with him to be able to get it out and manage a really decent swing at him. Goku giggled loudly and Hakkai stifled a small laugh with a polite cough.

As it was Sanzo settled for a firm shove back against the offending limb as he quickly rose from the window to escape the flirtatious kappa.

"Gods, don't think I'm not going to enjoy giving it a try. Living without YOU is one of the things I am looking forward to the most about this little train trip. Finally, a little goddamn peace."

Gojyo snickered to himself at the prime comment that immediately came to the tip of his tongue concerning a "little goddamn piece" for Sanzo, but he let it drop, deciding that he had tormented the priest enough for the moment. Sanzo thought Gojyo gave him such a hard time, but if he only knew how many unspoken salacious comments he barely escaped every day thanks to the tender mercy of the kappa's restraint …

Sanzo moodily slumped against the footboard of the chipped iron bedstead, inadvertently jarring the saru's painful leg. Goku started to cry out, but caught himself, and simply cut his golden eyes at his cranky sun and bit his lip warily. After a moment of silence he ventured a comment, his voice quiet and measured.

"Sanzo, I really don't think it's such a good idea for you to travel by yourself all that way."

Sanzo opened his mouth to protest, but Hakkai cut him off before he could say anything.

"Yes, Sanzo, I completely concur with Goku. I think this is quite foolhardy. The very same kinds of roving bands of youkai that have been molesting us as we have traveled are quite likely to be causing problems for the trains. Especially, gods forbid, if they get any drift of a Sanzo priest being on board, even more so if they find out it's you."

Sanzo shook his head determinedly. "I talked to the stationmaster about it. They haven't had any problems along the route I will be traveling."

"Not yet, that is," Gojyo dryly observed. "You're not exactly good at keeping a low profile, Sanzo-sama."

Sanzo ignored him and continued undeterred. "Most of the trip between here and Lanzhou is through such mountainous terrain, no one could get through it anyway."

"But, Sanzo, really. Travelling by yourself… It just seems like unnecessarily tempting fate. I can stay here and take care of Goku and Hakuryuu…"

"No! And leave me to spend nine or ten days there and a then back again alone on a train with the two-legged swinging dick over there? No thanks – I'd rather take my chances with the roving bands of youkai."

Gojyo was starting to get pissed. "You're not exactly my idea of a great date, either, cherry-chan. Your ass has been so tight so long I think it's fused shut. Let him go Hakkai. He thinks he has it all under control, just let him fucking go. He doesn't need me – he doesn't need any of us." Gojyo's voice was losing its last traces of humor and becoming all bitterness and snark.

Goku was really worried now. "Hakkai, just fix my leg some more and I'll go. I'll be ok. Sanzo wouldn't mind if I went, would you, Sanzo?"

"Ahaha, Goku, I'm afraid it isn't that easy. You broke the biggest bone in your leg, and it's fractured across the widest part. There is only but so much I can do with my chi powers for an injury like that, and after that you simply must stay take it easy for a few days to give it some time to knit on its own, and get stronger, before it can really take any stress. It could break again, and I wouldn't be there to fix it. I'm very sorry, Goku."

Sanzo was nonplussed. "It doesn't matter, saru – I am going alone regardless. Without Gojyo, or you, or anyone. End of conversation." He turned to the healer, "I'll leave the AnEx card with you, Hakkai, since my ticket and meals are already paid for all the way to Chang'an and back. If I find out once I get there that anything is going to hold me up from coming right back within a day or two, I'll send a telegram here and let you all know what the deal is."

"The train leaves at 7:35 a.m., I'm tired, I'm going to bed. They only had three rooms: Hakkai, will you share with Goku tonight? You'd probably be in here checking on him and the dragon all night anyway. You can have my room tomorrow night."

Hakkai sighed. He knew how impossible it was to reason with Sanzo when his mind was made up about something.

"Yes, that would be fine, Sanzo. I believe your things are already in the room to the right of this one. Sleep well. We'll see you for breakfast before you leave."

"Yeah, 'night Sanzo," Goku added, concern still tingeing his voice.

Sanzo made a small concession of a wave over his shoulder as he left the room. Gojyo was silent, deep in a sulk from all appearances.

After Sanzo had been gone a minute, Hakkai fell back into one of the small chairs at the table, his face a study in concern and worry. He looked up at his longtime friend.

"I'm sorry, Gojyo, I know you had hoped I would be able to talk him out of it. I'm afraid I didn't fare too well, either."

"It's ok, 'Kai, we all know how he is," Goku said consolingly. "He can be so damn hard-headed… He doesn't understand how we worry about him." His voice was clotted with emotion and his large gold eyes shimmered with worry for the man that was the center of his universe.

Gojyo looked back and forth between these two friends and comrades that had come to mean so much to him, one injured, and the other worried sick about his badly-injured …pet? friend?... whatever… and he was ready to strangle the bastard monk for his coldly inconsiderate actions.

He knew what it was like to think that no one cared whether you lived or died, but he also knew that it should be painfully obvious to Sanzo by now that they… well, that Goku and Hakkai did give a rat's ass about his pale priesty butt, whether he liked it or not. It had been hard for Gojyo to accept at first, too, and some days it still twisted his mind in knots, but for the most part he liked it, and he sure as hell bent over backwards not to cause the ones that cared about him any unintentional harm. Sanzo, on the other hand, seemed sometimes to do things to hurt people on purpose: the more they cared about him, the harder he pushed them away. Gojyo understood it, because before Hakkai had entered his life, he had done pretty much the same thing himself, but he sure as hell didn't like it, especially times like now when he saw his friends being wounded by the monk's callous disregard. He looked at the worry showing so clearly on their tired faces and he knew he had to do something.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sanzo finds a surprise on the train...

Chapter Two

Sanzo had deliberately told the other three that the train left an hour later than it really did that morning so he could avoid a big goodbye scene – this way by the time they came looking for him he would be long gone. He had left Hakkai a terse note with the AnEx card enclosed and figured that would take care of it. Hakkai would probably understand, and if he didn't, fuck it. There had been too many goodbyes in his life already, some organized and formal, some simply slipping away by himself into the fog like this one, and he hadn't liked any of them. But the formal ones involving other people had made him particularly uncomfortable, all smacking of unmet expectations and unexpressed emotions for all involved, all burdensome shit he could really do without.

The train station was dark and damp, the wispy fog winding around in slinky fingers like those strange curling-line cloud designs you see on old-fashioned pottery and fabrics. It reminded Sanzo just how high up in the mountains they really were, as he realized that the fog drifting through the station was actually cirrus clouds wafting in slow-motion across the peaks. He did feel a bit of a twinge as he boarded the train, like perhaps there really should be someone there saying goodbye to him in the nearly-empty train station. Something along the lines of the scenes you saw in movies of tearful families, smiling bravely from the platform as they waved goodbye to loved ones. But then his life had never allowed for that kind of attachment with anyone, so why should today be any different? He boarded the steep steps onto the aging passenger car without looking back, and threaded his way down the narrow aisles to find a seat.

As he shoved his valise in the storage compartment and sat down on the battered leather bench seat of the smoking car, the nagging, pulling feelings preying around the corners of his mind would not leave him alone. He sighed as he lit a cigarette and grudgingly admitted to himself that it did feel a little strange leaving the saru and the others behind, without any sort of farewell, especially since he wasn't one hundred percent sure he would even be seeing them again, that he would be coming back. Who knew whether the goddamn Sanbutsushin might not have some different fucking jackleg mission in mind for him now?

He also was haunted once again by that nagging feeling that he was being followed by some kind of a dark presence, which he had felt more and more strongly since that horrible day when Goku had been shot... A murderous intent like empty dark – that was how he had felt it that day, and it hadn't changed, only become more familiar, closer, like it was circling around him in tighter and tighter orbits, and his vision of it was becoming less and less obscured, as if it was far away from him in the fog but starting to close in on him.

He hadn't discussed it with anyone except for that brief moment of revelation when he had recognized the spoiled godling, Kami-sama, and made the connection with him and the Ukoku Sanzo of his youth – thinking back, he remembered that visit, and also recalled clearly that the final trip Koumyou had made with the smarmy, sarcastic monk had been shortly before Koumyou's death. He remembered how the odd, peevish young protégé Ukoku had somehow acquired had given him the creeps almost as much as the child's master did- he had not been at all sorry to see them leave the Temple when their visit ended.

He had no idea know how much of his conversation with Kami-sama the rest of the Ikkou even remembered, given the chaos of that day – certainly it had never been mentioned by anyone since. Some months later there had been several brief, but frustratingly circuitous, discussions with Hazel on the subject of the dark Sanzo priest. Despite Hazel's coy attempts to tell Sanzo only enough to keep him interested but not enough to be truly helpful, he had learned more than enough to fan the flames of his suspicion. And even then he hadn't let on to the others his growing concern that the fallen and very powerful Muten Sutra holder might be behind Goku's shooting and other evil happenings that had befallen them in recent years, and possibly a whole lot more.

In his gut, Sanzo felt like the rogue Ukoku had been a hovering threat on the fringes of his existence since his childhood with Koumyou: the darkness to his light, the night moon to his sun. From his days as the very young Kouryuu the river rat, at his Master's side, the first person in his life he remembered ever being suspicious of or feeling wary around was the dark-haired teen Ken'yuu who showed up at the Temple one day and began hanging around at his Master's side like a persistent fly. His mere presence had made the younger child clench his jaw, and shrink from his Master's presence when the older student was around. He would find excuses to be elsewhere when they would sit and talk philosophy for hours on the benches outside Koumyou's quarters in the evenings, or take long rambling walks along the riverbank.

As time wore on he questioned himself sharply, wondering if he was acting babyish and simply jealous of his Master's time, which he had no right to be, given how lucky he was to even be under Koumyou's care, and how easily he would have ended up on the rocks at the bottom of the cold, tumbling water, had the kind priest not heard his voice that fateful day when he had found him. But as he thought about it and watched them together, he knew there was something about the young acolyte that felt essentially wrong, that seemed to scream evil, to vibrate with danger, and it took all of his young will to remember his place and to not run screaming every time Ken'yuu visited, to not try to physically insert himself between the dark-eyed young man and his surrogate father, like every cell in his body was instinctively driving him to do. Even when Ken'yuu became Ukoku Sanzo, it didn't mitigate his distrust of him, especially when he heard the rumors about how he had achieved his priesthood, and the brutal manner of his victory over the Sanzo Goudai. He had felt like his suspicions were completely borne out by the fact that the chakra point signifying divine ordination had never appeared on the newly-made Sanzo's head.

When he had confirmation from Hazel that Ukoku had been the shadowy figure in his early life as well, and that he had met up with the dark Sanzo again here recently on this continent, his suspicions began to come to full bloom and it all began to fall into place. He began to see how Ukoku's malevolent manipulation of events could conceivably have begun far earlier than Goku's shooting, that his black imprint could possibly be woven through their journey all the way back to the beginning.

At first he tried to tell himself he was being nuts, that all the talk of the Calamity, Hazel's dark suspicions, and simple road-weariness and battle fatigue were all working on his mind and sending him into a full-blown case of paranoia. But as time went on he not only believed it, but began to wonder whether Ukoku Sanzo might even be the demonic force and mastermind behind the Minus Wave itself, and not someone from the Houtou faction simply trying to revive Gyumaoh as was suspected. He had managed to keep his suspicions to himself, but he had already resolved to bring the subject up with the Sanbutsushin during his audience with them, and ask them if they had any idea what had become of Ukoku or his Muten Scripture.

As the train slowly pulled out of the station, Sanzo's mind turned to the traveling companions he was leaving behind, realizing suddenly in a moment of panic that he could very well be leaving them at Ukoku's mercy, without the divine protection of his Maten Scripture to defend them from his extreme evil. If he had tried to kill the saru once, who was to say he would not try it again, determined to complete the job this time? He knew from Hazel that he had been asking him about the Seiten Taisei for some reason, perhaps perceiving the Great Sage's power as a threat to his own.

"Fucking hell," he muttered quietly to himself as he nervously lit a cigarette. "Fine time to figure that little detail out, asshole," he chided himself bitterly.

He tried to convince himself that between the three of them, they could handle anything Ukoku could serve up, even without him and the Scripture and banishing gun. He thought back over the past year or so; about the three halflings, neither man nor youkai, that he had come to trust with his life on a regular basis. Despite his dogged determination to hold to his code of muichi motsu, to let nothing and no one ever mean as much to him again as his master Koumyou had, in order to avoid the inevitable suffering from the inevitable loss, he knew deep down that the three idiots had begun to get under his skin. Every time one of them risked their life for him, or went out of their way to help Sanzo even when he knew he had been a flaming asshole to them, they got in a little deeper, like one of those tiny little bugs that burrowed under your skin when you sat in the grass, leaving a persistent irritating itch that you didn't even feel until it was too late.

As he thought about it all, he decided it was probably just as well that he was getting away for a while, even if he did have to eventually go back, and they did have to go on with the fucking journey in the long run – he could use a little perspective, a little distance at this point in the journey. Besides, the saru was getting so damn dependent on him, and it was really getting to be time for him to start growing up, and Hakkai had been on his own more than long enough now, he really didn't need Sanzo to be his goddamn keeper, watching over him, anymore. And then there was the fucking kappa… He ground the cigarette out angrily under his boot and lit another one right away, thinking about those perpetually-teasing red eyes, and that open sewer he called a sense of humor, always pushing him too far… He sighed heavily and his right eyelid twitched as he looked out the window and tried to steer his mind to another subject.

"You must be thinking about me, candy-pants, no one else makes your eyelid twitch like that."

"What the fuck!!" His neck cracked audibly as his head whipped towards the sound of the familiar, taunting voice that was not supposed to be there.

"You didn't honestly think I was going to sit on my thumbs and let you have all the fun, did you?" Gojyo grinned as he slid his bag into the overhead bin, and flopped down onto the bench across from Sanzo, stretching out his long legs and plopping his feet up to rest on the seat next to the grimacing, twitching priest.

"Fucking hell." Sanzo stood up, and tried to get past the offending limbs blocking his way. "Fucking bloody blue fucking hell. Get the hell out of my way, insect… Where is that goddamn conductor?" He shoved Gojyo's legs down and stood in the aisle, yelling irritably. "Conductor!! Stop the goddamn train. Now. Get rid of this asshole – he does not have a ticket. Throw him off and call the police."

The elderly gentleman shuffled up the aisle to Sanzo, making placating gestures as he came, "Yes sir, yes sir. Please, please, if you will just sit down."

"This red-headed troll doesn't have a ticket. Throw him off the fucking train. Now."

"Please sir, I need you to sit down, for your own safety. These mountain tracks have sudden curves that can really be quite hazard…"

As if on cue, the train lurched suddenly and Sanzo was thrown violently to his left, right into Gojyo's lap.

"Now see, I knew you were really glad to see me, deep down," the kappa smirked without missing a beat as he slid his arms around the fallen monk.

Sanzo hastily squirmed out of his grasp and into his own seat. He was very close to pulling out the gun, but he decided, given the strong chance of ricochet in the closed steel train car, to give the conductor a short chance to get rid of the freeloader first.

"Get…rid… of … him… now…" he said between clenched teeth.

Before the conductor could even say a word, Gojyo held up his ticket, waggling it smugly right in front of the small man's nose. The little man took it and studied it intently before responding timidly to Sanzo.

"I'm sorry sir, but he does have a legitimate ticket. But he's only going as far as Lanzhou, then he changes trains. This is a round-trip ticket for Chang'an. But you're welcome to go sit in the non-smoking car…"

Sanzo groaned and clenched his jaw.

"Go. Away. Now," he managed to bite out at the conductor between gritted teeth. He didn't have to tell the man twice, before he scurried away as fast as his short legs could carry him down the aisle of the jostling train.

"I got us adjoining sleeping compartments, too, Sanzo-sama. Told the ticket guy I was your bodyguard and it was crucial to the safety of the great Genjyo Sanzo the 31st whosy-whatsis that I have the room next to yours in the sleeping car."

He watched a minute as Sanzo's eyes started to get large and dark like they were going to completely detonate, waited just a tic for dramatic effect, and then dropped his final bomb, just for the sheer fun of it.

"And on the last train we get to share a sleeping compartment, cherry-chan." He smiled sweetly and batted his crimson eyes flirtatiously, knowing he was living very dangerously, but enjoying the hell out of it, nonetheless.

Maybe it was because of all his training that he managed to call on some kind of serene Buddhist acceptance of the inevitable and somehow managed not to pull out his gun at that moment, when he wanted so badly to, or maybe it was just because he was so fucking tired, but he realized ultimately he was stuck, and short of just flat killing Gojyo, nothing was going to change the situation. Maybe it was because on some level he was actually slightly worried about his personal safety on the trip as well and just could never allow himself to admit it, not to mention what his being on this train might do in terms of endangering the other passengers, and deep down, and he would never on pain of death admit this to anyone, he realized he had been slightly foolhardy to insist on going alone.

And maybe, just maybe, on some level, and for reasons he was the least likely to admit or understand, he was actually glad to see that flaming red hair, framing that familiar handsomely-scarred face, and those glittering ruby eyes so full of sex and mischief and life, especially with dark, gloomy thoughts of Ukoku plaguing his mind. No one in this world was more dissimilar to Ukoku than the erogappa, and no one represented a better antidote to the realm of bleak, mind-fucking nothingness of that dark spectre from his past for Sanzo than Gojyo did… Maybe it was all of those things… Who knows? But suddenly his shoulders sagged slightly, and the fight went out of Sanzo, at least for that day. He wasn't mad, or even defeated: he just knew he very, very badly needed a drink.

"I'm going to the dining car." He got up and left, not even worrying about his bags. If Gojyo wanted to come along on this trip, he could start making himself useful right now, and take care of shit like that. Yup, he needed a drink, and now. Several, actually.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gojyo plucks the priest's nerves, and ends up with a surprise or two himself...

Chapter Three

 

Sanzo was sitting on a bench seat running the length of a small section in one end of the ancient train's dining car, which was as close as you could get to a bar in the aged motel and diner on wheels. He was nursing his second whiskey, a surprisingly good brand, and trying to ignore the rumblings in his stomach that had begun when he had started smelling the tempting food aromas wafting through the car, when Gojyo had arrived, waved to the waiter for a beer, and flopped down next to him on the seat. Sanzo was suddenly overwhelmed by how tired he was, but tried to blame it on the whiskey. He had been so keyed up the previous night, he had slept only an hour or so, and even that had been fitful and plagued with troubled dreams. He was paying for it all now: his body was screaming at him for want of decent food and sleep, combined with the stresses and strains of the past several days.

"Well now, Sanzo-sama….." the kappa exhaled happily as he stretched his legs out in front of him. He threw one arm up behind his head to serve as an impromptu cushion for his head against the cold window, "I got our bags settled into our compartments. The conductor wanted to see your ticket, but I vouched for you, told 'em he could trust you, you being a priest and all that. I was gonna say I was sure you had it stashed somewhere in that magical robe of yours, but then I remembered you were traveling incognito. Smart move, that, by the way," he nodded, indicating his approval of Sanzo's choice of street clothes instead of his usual robes, which tended to make him stand out and draw largely unwanted attention everywhere he went.

"Yup," Gojyo sighed contentedly as he laced his fingers together behind his head and slouched further down in the seat, "He was fine with it as long as I was willing to vouch for you, especially once he heard you were a man of the cloth and all – and, before you even start to get your knickers in a twist, I slipped him a little extra coin to keep that fact strictly on the QT, ok cu-tie?" He grinned and cut his eyes in Sanzo's direction to see what effect his smug little speech was having.

Sanzo rolled his eyes, ignoring the blatant flirtation and staring glumly into his whiskey, watching the little rings on the vibrating surface of the dark amber fluid as he attempted to hold the small glass steady against the perpetual rolling motion of the train. The goddamn kappa was enjoying his new self-assigned job as the "company dick" far too much already, he thought, smirking to himself at his own inadvertent but entirely appropriate play on words.

"Just why are you here, anyway," he said in a low growl, "and how the hell did you get a fucking ticket?"

Gojyo tried not to grin too smugly as he snagged his beer from the waiter and secured it between his denim-clad legs long enough to fish his smokes out of the pocket of his leather jacket. He offered one to Sanzo, who made a face in response like he had caught a whiff of badly-decayed roadkill. The kappa went ahead and lit one for himself, prolonging the process for effect, then blowing several smoke rings, sending one each drifting through its predecessor, before he finally deigned to casually answer the monk's question.

"What, oh, that? No problemo. I snuck over to the train station right after you went to bed, told 'Kai I needed cigs. Like I said, I just told the stationmaster you had decided you needed me to go with you as your bodyguard. The fact that I could rattle off the numbers of the Talking Heads' Gold Card may have helped to convince him that I was legit…" He suppressed his self-satisfied smirk as much as he could, but not completely.

Sanzo's eyebrow slowly raised and he could feel his blood pressure going up with it.

"You've… memorized the goddamn AnEx card number? Tch… I don't even want to think about the possible implications of that." He slammed back the rest of his whiskey and raised his hand for the white-coated waiter to bring him another. Visions of bookkeepers in Chang'an reviewing bills with page after page of phone-sex charges and other assorted horrors Gojyo might pursue, given free access to the financial freedom of the card, swam unpleasantly in Sanzo's head.

Gojyo smiled impishly and quickly drained his beer so he could put his empty bottle on the waiter's tray beside Sanzo's shot glass, and pointed to it to indicate he wanted a refill as well.

He leaned back against the old green leather bench seat and sighed happily as he lit another cigarette. He saw Sanzo fumbling for his apparently nonexistent lighter and leaned in to allow the monk to light the smoke dangling uselessly from his lips from his own, grinning wolfishly as he looked up into those intense violet eyes, so close that he felt their hair over their foreheads brush together. The train jostled and out of reflex Gojyo grabbed Sanzo's hand that was holding his cigarette with his own hand to steady it. They froze for a split-second as a jolt of energy surged through both of them, fast as lightning but just as undeniable. While Sanzo's eyes shuttered instantly, Gojyo's widened like a startled deer, and he dropped the priest's hand as if it had been made of molten metal. Sanzo turned away and slowly puffed his cigarette to life from the small spark he had gotten from Gojyo's, concentrating on it as if getting it lit suddenly was the most important thing in the world, requiring every particle of his attention. Finally satisfied that it was fully lit, he let it dangle from his fingers and took a long slow drink of his whiskey as he stared out of the window opposite him, completely ignoring his seatmate.

Leaning back in his seat again, Gojyo feigned a casual attitude and hoped Sanzo didn't notice his accelerated breathing. He tried to will away the tightness he felt in the crotch of his jeans just from that short, close contact with the pissy, self-righteous monk, reminding himself it was going to be a long train trip in close quarters, and if he didn't want to get shot before the first day was out, he was going to have to exercise more self-control than that. He was going to have to somehow deal with the raging loinsweats that seemed to overtake him every time he got within ten inches of the arrogant blond, but it obviously wasn't going to be easy. He tried to remember what they had been talking about, just minutes ago… ahh, the AnEx card.

"Don't piss yourself over the goddamn card, your fabulousness," he exhaled slowly, focusing on the smoke rings he was blowing as he exhaled, "I may be a flirt, and I may even skirt the edges of the rules at a card game occasionally, but I'm not a thief. I only used it to get the ticket. Believe it or not, I'm mostly here because I couldn't stand the sad-sack looks on the monkey and 'Kai's faces last night, they were so fuckin' worried about you making this little expedition by yourself. So after they finally conked out, I went over to the station and bought the ticket, told the guy I was one of your star students."

"Tch. That should do wonders for my image. Yeah, there's lots of students studying to be Sanzo priests that look like you. I thought you told him you were my bodyguard."

"I was kidding… jeez, you can't even tell when someone is shitting you anymore. But we do have to share a sleeping compartment later on, they were overbooked – that was the truth. And hey, you're not exactly standard issue priest material, yourself, your assholiness."

Sanzo paused and took a long drag on his smoke, watching the mountains go by in the window opposite them.

"Heh. True enough, I guess. But do try to keep the catting around to a minimum and don't bring your skanks back to the compartment, or I'll have to either shoot you or throw you off the goddamn train myself. Clear?"

"Fair enough," Gojyo chuckled, "but from what I've seen so far, it's going to be a long dry trip. I haven't seen any women on this train yet that are over thirteen or under fifty-five, and Sha Gojyo does have certain standards to maintain. I do have my image to think of, you know…"

Gojyo stroked his hair as he spoke, like a banty rooster preening itself, not even realizing he was making the gesture. Sanzo rolled his eyes in disgust and shook his head.

"T.M.I.," he decreed sharply as he took his whiskey from the waiter. "Keep your … predilections… to yourself, if you don't mind," he said as he took a long swig of the dark amber fluid. "Keep them coming," he muttered to the waiter, snapping his fingers impatiently as the young man handed Gojyo his beer and turned to leave.

"Awww, what's the matter, cherry-chan? Are we jealous?" The kappa couldn't resist prodding his captive audience a bit. He knew, stuck as they were in a fast-moving steel box full of strangers like this, that he had a shade more immunity from the swift and deadly retribution of the Smith and Wesson, and maybe even the fan, than he might usually have. He was beginning to feel kind of loosened-up now anyway by the beers, not to mention the idea of having several days alone with Sanzo, so he decided to bait him further. In the back of his mind somewhere he saw Hakkai's placid face and dimly heard his friend's ever-patient voice, chiding him gently "now, now, Gojyo, musn't poke the bear," but he brushed the image away with a brief but effective rationalization, something along the lines of life being short anyway, and he might as well have some fun while he had the chance.

"So, Sanzo-sama…." he drawled, dragging it out. He was looking at the taciturn monk out of the corner of his eye, his mouth turned up in a devilish smirk as he spoke, his voice almost lilting, "what exactly is YOUR type, anyway? Inquiring minds want to know. Is it old, young, blond, brunet, tall, short, blue eyes, brown eyes,… gold ones?..."

Sanzo's eyes flared as he turned and glared at him intensely for a short instant, then pointedly turned back and began ignoring him again, fixing his eyes on a point through the dirty window. He watched the scenery roll by, largely unchanging, peak after peak of steep greenish-gray mountains, clouds winding around them occasionally, and off in the background, looming over it all and fading away from them like the last colors of a sunset as they got further and further away, the giant peaks of Lhasa, paler at the top from the perpetual snow there at the extreme altitudes, the rooftop of the world. Somewhere in there, or just beyond, Sanzo thought, lay Shangri-la, their destination, perhaps their destiny.

He tried to convert Gojyo's teasing voice in his ears into the sound of a buzzing insect, to make it just that insignificant, untranslatable into human speech, telling himself it was nothing to him beyond a mild annoyance. What made him angriest was that he couldn't make that mind-control trick work this time, as he so often did during the long miles in jippu, and he kept on hearing him, no matter how hard he tried not to. That smartass voice, husky yet coy with flirtation, those damn teasing words, and the image, even when he closed his eyes, of those leering ruby eyes and those full, smirking lips reflecting back pale and distorted in the window across from him, hazy and sooty, but still there, goddamnit… It all kept permeating his consciousness, rattling around in his fatigued mind like the constant rolling of the train's wheels on the never-ending iron rails no matter how hard he tried to keep it all out, to keep Gojyo out, he was just there. There there there, like an annoying mosquito... buzz buzz buzz buzz… Gojyo Gojyo Gojyo Gojyo… Gold eyes! That one pulled him out of his whiskey and fatigue-dulled state like sudden blast of frosty air, and the remark was too much to ignore. He turned and shot the redhead an icy glare that he hoped said, clearly and unequivocally, "one more word = death," in no uncertain terms.

Gojyo had noticed the look, and had continued, completely undeterred.

"Ooh, gold ones, eh? Interesting... " Gojyo considered a minute, but decided to go in another direction, before he made any rash assumptions. "Hell, I don't really even know for sure which way you swing, priesty-o-mine. Which is it, are you AC or DC? Is it tits or pecs that do it for you, pussy or prick? I'm guessing AC, since I'm sure I've seen you checking out my ass, and equally sure I've never once seen you checking out a woman's boobs. Not even Yaone, and she's got a rack that would stop this train, or even that little strawberry blonde friend of hers that loooooooves you so much."

Sanzo groaned and slid down in his seat a little further at the mention of Lirin, another one of the true banes of his existence. Of course, noticing his discomfort only spurred Gojyo on.

"Now little Lirin-chan's got one helluva set of hooters on her, and even when she had 'em wrapped around your freakin' ears, you still didn't notice… And being a gentleman as I am, I won't even say what she's had wrapped around your shoulders… heheheh… And you didn't raise one of those pale eyebrows of yours one bit, did you? She could have been a cold dead codfish as far as you were concerned, not a nice soft warm bosomy female with a nice soft warm…"

"…Gojyo Gojyo Gojyo Gojyo stopstopstop!!!" Sanzo's face was one giant clench, and any parts that weren't clenched were twitching. He knocked back the rest of his shot of whiskey and gesticulated wildly with the empty glass to the waiter, who scurried over immediately with the bottle. Sanzo grabbed his hand when he went to pour it. "Leave. It. Go. Now," he gritted out.

"Y-y-yes s-sir," he said, placing it carefully on the little table next to them and hurrying off before the irritable blond man could say anything else to him.

Gojyo looked up from his beer in feigned innocence, his eyes wide. He picked up his smoke from the ashtray built into the steel armrest next to him and took a long drag, trying to subdue the large smirk that kept taking over his face.

"What's the matter, cherry-chan?" Gojyo snickered, trying to sound innocent.

"And stop calling me that, for fuck's sake!!" Sanzo quietly exploded between clenched teeth. The few drinkers and diners in the club car were already starting to turn around and watch in fascination at the interesting scene between the flamboyant grinning redhead and the very pretty but obviously cranky blond. It wasn't something one saw every day jostling along the rickety iron rails that bisected the wild outlands of Western China.

"Well, isn't it accurate? And while we're on the subject, here's another question. Are you still 'fresh out of the box', or aren't you? And…" he decided to go ahead and push it, knowing full well he was on dangerous ground, "I mean, speaking just for the record here, I am right about 'the other thing', too, aren't I? Wouldn't you be batting for the all-boys team, if you were to dip your toe in the pond, so to speak?"

Gojyo knew he was really treading on thin ice now, and had dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper he was sure only Sanzo could hear above the clatter of the wheels rolling over the rough mountain tracks. He figured maybe the bouzu would be less likely to kill him if he wasn't so worried about the whole dining car hearing their in-depth discussion of his sexual interests. Despite his whisper, his words spilled out fast and careless, like perhaps if he didn't give the monk enough time to think about it, he might manage to get his questions out and get some kind of a response out of Sanzo without getting killed, just by some daring combination of sheer velocity and nerve.

Nonetheless, Sanzo had predictably blanched at his blunt questions: his forehead veins were visibly bulging and throbbing, and before long Gojyo heard the distinctive sound of the priest's jaw grinding his teeth like millstones. He realized then that there no way he was going to get anything remotely resembling an answer, and that, no big surprise, he had touched a major nerve. It was clear he had hit a little too close to home to wrangle any kind of an informative response from the irascible monk, and he'd probably have to settle for escaping with his life. But given all that, it was also clear that the whiskey must be having an effect on Sanzo, or surely he would have felt the cold muzzle of the gun in his ribs already, regardless their situation and how many people were around them, considering how far he had just trespassed the unwritten boundaries between him and Sanzo, the ones that it was understood that no one, not even Hakkai, was ever supposed to cross.

Gojyo looked at the level in the bottle and the expression on Sanzo's face, how his lids over the violet eyes were droopier than usual, and his pale cheeks were beginning to look flushed. He tried to ignore the flash of tight heat in his gut that flamed again when he studied the monk so intently, when he got a close look at the curly sand-colored eyelashes framing those damned eyes of his, with irises of a shade of deep dark purple that he had only seen on one other person, and She was a Goddess. Gojyo's eyes were drawn to the line of tiny fine blond hairs that highlighted the delicate arch of those sandy blond aristocratic eyebrows of his, and between them, the red chakra point like a tiny kiss: he couldn't usually see all these details because normally they were obscured by Sanzo's long bangs and his downcast eyes. Gojyo caught himself staring at him open-mouthed, frankly mesmerized as he studied him for a long heart-stopping moment while the monk was clearly oblivious. Only when Sanzo turned and glared at him did he realize he had been holding his breath while he had been staring at him, frozen like an animal stalking its prey, stock still and fascinated, studying the reluctant unearthly beauty as if it were the first time he had ever seen him. Gojyo found himself wishing they could just hold perfectly still like that indefinitely, that everything would just stop, that time would freeze, and he could sit there and stare at the pissy but elegant blond for as long as he wanted.

But, as usual, Sanzo's ice-cold glare brought Gojyo back to reality like a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head. Not a minute too soon, he thought, as he realized his cock was starting to swell in his pants again as his eyes strayed over the priest's form, moving down the column of his neck as it disappeared into the sheath of the tight black undergarment, watching how his tapered fingers impatiently tapped on his whiskey glass, and imagining what it would feel like to feel those fingers wrapping around his hardened length. He shook himself, wondering where in the hell these thoughts were coming from, and reminded himself again he had a long train ride ahead of him. If he was going to get the horrible hots like this for the monk on the first day, just sitting next to him, he was going to have a real problem when they had to share a sleeping compartment, because it was pretty clear Sanzo was not interested in what he had to offer, no matter how much he kidded him about it and tried to flirt him into it. He motioned to the waiter as he drained his beer, and cleared his throat, trying to will his mind on to safer subjects.

"So, hey, I know you said you were sure you could handle yourself on this trip alone, but now that I'm here anyway, any concerns I should know about? You expecting any trouble?" He sat back casually in the seat, staring at Sanzo's distorted face in the window across from them, trying to read his scowling expression for any unusual nuances.

"Let's put it this way," the monk said in a low voice, "I won't be leaving the sutra and gun in the sleeping compartment. The sutra is on me and the gun is loaded." To avoid attracting any more attention than was absolutely necessary, Sanzo had opted to at least start the trip out in plain clothes, wearing a loose jacket and black denim shirt over his jeans and black undergarments instead of the robe and bamboo rasa. The jacket's inside pockets held his sutra and gun in secure easy reach.

"Mmm," Gojyo said, attempting to sound casual, but feeling somewhat alarmed. It was unusual for Sanzo to admit concern about his own safety, ever, and for him to admit that much, he must have a damned good reason. "So maybe it's not such a bad thing that I showed up after all, yeah?" he said softly, managing with a little effort not to sound too self-satisfied at being right. Reminding himself to stick to the matter at hand, he continued. "Anything in particular you'd like to share? Anything I should know about?"

Sanzo lit a cigarette and exhaled slowly and thoughtfully. Gojyo could tell there was something on his mind, and gave him the time to decide how to communicate it to him. He knew such things did not come easily to the priest.

"It's not something specific, as much as a feeling, a hunch," Sanzo finally said slowly. "I'd had an idea since Goku was shot – it was why I took off then. Talking with that asshole Hazel, I began to get more confirmation, but I could never get him to open up about it. The fucker knew what I wanted to know, and used the information like a goddamn cocktease."

"You have some idea who shot the monkey?" Gojyo exclaimed incredulously. "You mean you had a real reason for taking off like you did? Shit man, we just thought you'd freaking lost it! You should have fucking told us – we were pissed as hell at you, man. We thought you were just being a self-indulgent asshole. A little memo to the troops about this would have helped, Sanzo-sama."

Gojyo shook his head and took a long pull on his beer as he tried to process this new information. He did his best to quash the anger he felt as he remembered those first days tending wounded Goku and Hakkai both, and having to explain to the poor monkey why his sun wasn't there anymore. He shook his head gently as he heard Hakkai's gentle voice in his head, urging him softly, "maa maa, Gojyo, it's all over and done with now, your getting mad now won't change anything. Let it go."

"That's easy for you to say…" he mumbled softly to himself as he drained his beer in one long gulp. He had pretty much accepted now that for the rest of his life he would hear Hakkai's voice in his head when he had a dilemma, like the good angel on the character's shoulder in a cartoon, to balance out his own devils, and he could just imagine the small, thoughtful chuckle he would hear from his best friend if he told him about it.

"Say what?"

"Ne'ermind." He lit a cigarette, and stretched "Maybe we should discuss this one back in our compartments, not here."

Sanzo scanned the people in the dining car – they looked harmless enough, but you never knew.

"Yeah, probably not a bad idea." Sanzo drained his glass and stretched slowly in his seat.

"First we should get some food – you need to eat," Gojyo averred. "I know 'Kai would skin me alive if I didn't make sure you ate. I'll get some food from the waiter on a tray and bring it; you go on ahead. Anything in particular you want?" He grabbed the small laminated menu and handed it to Sanzo to peruse. Sanzo stood and tossed it back down on the seat as he turned to walk out of the dining car.

"I'm not hungry. Just get another bottle of whiskey. And smokes. I need smokes." His voice was cut off by the noise of the rails as he opened the door to leave the car.

"Somehow I knew you were going to say all of that," Gojyo said, shaking his head, amused at the monk's predictability.

An hour later they had opened the door between their small compartments, and the waiter had shown up with their dinner and other requests. Gojyo was pleasantly surprised by the food, even more so when Sanzo ate a fair amount of his, compared to what a pittance he usually ate.

As they were enjoying their smokes and glasses of whiskey after the meal, Gojyo returned to the subject at hand now that they had privacy for the discussion.

"So, you were saying you had your suspicions about who shot the monkey?"

"Hnn. Yeah. Well, it's kinda a long story, but it goes back to my days with my master. There was this guy who used to hang around him a lot: he was a student at a different temple, supposed to be a real hot property – a prodigy even. But he was a real non-conformist – used to transcribe porn for calligraphy practice, then he'd sell it to the other students, stuff like that. He had very strong dharmic powers, but very dark. You remember Rikudo? His abilities would be a drop in the bucket, compared to this guy's." Sanzo suppressed a shudder, and continued.

"I was just a kid, but the little bit I was around him, I couldn't stand the guy. He sucked up to my master big time, though, which really gave me the creeps." He took a long drink of his whiskey and slid further down in his seat as the memories came back to him. "So the Sanzo in charge of the other temple died, and Koumyou – my master – was there when it happened, and he was supposed to sort of supervise the selection process for the next one. I don't know the whole story – Koumyou went off with the guy for like a year shortly afterwards, and he died shortly after he came back - but the upshot was this guy somehow ascended to Sanzo, and there were all kinds of rumors that he did it in ways that were not exactly, shall we say, by the book. Violent… dark magic, even. Koumyou never spoke about it – sometimes I almost wondered if this creep didn't have some kind of hold on him. But the stories didn't surprise me, and fit perfectly with the feelings I had about this creep. So we know from day one, this guy is ruthless, has all these dharmic powers, and he has the Muten Sutra, which rules over Death and Nothingness."

Gojyo listened intently, turning sideways so he could better watch Sanzo's face as he sat next to him on one of the dropped down bunks that served as bench seats in these compartments. It was rare for Sanzo to talk about his past or the Sanzo business, and the hanyou was absorbing the details like a sponge, since everything the monk said helped him to understand the mystery that was Genjyo Sanzo a little bit better, in addition to their current situation.

"The guy sounds pretty freakin' creepy. So what happened to him?"

"Well, that's the thing. His chakra point never appeared on his forehead when he became a Sanzo, which seemed pretty interesting, and he never assumed any of his duties that I know of. The way I remember it, he and his sutra just disappeared around the same time that my master was killed and his sutra stolen. I've never heard anything about him since."

"What's his name?"

"When he was a student it was Ken'yuu, his given name as a Sanzo was Ukoku Sanzo," Sanzo replied. "He'd be about twelve years older than me – thirty-five, thirty-six? Black hair, very dark eyes- not sure of the exact color, he always wore glasses. He always had this really evil smirk on his face – I don't think I ever saw him without it. And stubbly, always stubbly, once he was old enough, like the guy didn't fucking know how to shave. That really bugged me for some reason."

"So now, how do you think this guy ties in with Goku? You really think this is who shot Goku? Seems kinda far-fetched, I mean, why…? Wait. Ukoku. Isn't that the guy you talked about with that Kami-sama asswipe?"

Sanzo tossed back another shot. His buzz had died off some since he had eaten, and he aimed to get it back. He really wanted to get that quiet muffled "hum" going in his head again, the one that shoved aside all the pain and angst and worry.

"Yup. That's the one. I have a feeling he's the one that set us up for that whole fucking fiasco. Just who the hell do you suppose his 'master'was? What kind of being would allow, not allow – deliberately set in motion, apparently - a setup like that whole business? Had to be someone very powerful and incredibly twisted. I've had a funny feeling about this guy ever since." He shook his head darkly, remembering the deep pain and agonizing defeats they all suffered during that period. "Then Hazel starts talking about this 'dark priest from the East' with all these great powers, who shows up in his country and causes all this grief, and tells him to come here. Sounds pretty goddamn suspicious to me."

They both smoked in silence for several long moments, considering the implications of Sanzo's words. Gojyo's mind whirred as he thought about a sutra with the strength and power of Sanzo's, but controlling Death and Nothingness, and in the hands of someone with that kind of dark and twisted mind. He shivered involuntarily as images of explosions and massive death came unbidden into his head. Another thought occurred to him.

"Sanzo? If his sutra controls death, do you suppose he taught Hazel his little hat trick with that amulet of his?"

"Beats the hell out of me. Hazel starts tap dancing and gets all coy every time I try to get him to talk about either how he does his resurrection bit, or Ukoku. But I think there's definitely some kind of unholy alliance there." He shook his head ruefully. "One other little fine point, if you'd like something else to worry about." Gojyo looked at him apprehensively. "You may remember, Koumyou Sanzo's Seiten Scripture is still unaccounted for, and I've been trying to find it since he was killed. If this guy was somehow involved in Koumyou's death… and he had better hope I never get my hands on him, if he was… he could conceivably have two scriptures, not just one."

Gojyo's eyes grew wide, and he pondered further, almost afraid to ask his next question.

"Sanzo… you don't suppose that this dickwad might actually have something to do with the Minus Wave, do you?"

Sanzo closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fingers as if really fatigued, trying to hide how startled he was to hear the words that had been haunting his mind actually spoken out loud. He lowered his voice and poured another shot and tossed it back.

"Yeah, it's occurred to me. Every night and every day since I first grasped the magnitude of what the Minus Wave really is. Especially since I've never totally bought that business about it being caused by simply mixing science and demon magic; I really think there has to be more to it than that, or it would have happened a long time before it did. There has to have been a catalyst – like a sutra – that made it happen, that made something good go so far wrong, or allowed something so evil to be done intentionally. There just had to be." He yawned and slid down in the seat, stretching his legs out straight and crossing them at his ankles. It was almost like finally sharing this knowledge with someone after carrying it as his solitary burden for so long had released a great deal of tension from Sanzo, and he suddenly felt surprisingly relaxed and very, very tired.

"Fucking stinking bloody blue hell," Gojyo sighed slowly. "So now you think this guy is after us?"

"Tch. Hell no, asshole," Sanzo said, his words starting to slur as his head began to nod, the fatigue, lack of sleep, and alcohol finally catching up with him. "I think he's after me."

His head slumped down towards his chest, and Sanzo did something Gojyo had never actually personally observed. He had seen the priest pass out drunk on occasion, and he had seen him knocked unconscious, but he had never seen this, as Sanzo's eyes fluttered closed and he gently fell asleep where he sat, and began snoring softly.

Gojyo grinned. "Can't hold your liquor any more, eh, priest?" he said softly.

He gently slid the jacket containing the sutra and gun off of Sanzo's shoulders and slipped off his sandals before laying his head down on the seat. Very gingerly, he lifted his legs and swung them up onto the bench seat, and lifted up his head to slide the folded up jacket under his head like a pillow. He knew a regular pillow would be more comfortable, but he also knew Sanzo would be happier when he woke up, knowing that the sutra and gun had never been far away. He grabbed a blanket from compartment over the bunk and stretched it out over the sleeping monk, kneeling next to him for a moment to brush the pale hair back from his eyes.

"Sleep well, priesty-locks," he whispered, and chanced a quick, soft kiss on his forehead before locking both compartments and heading out.

Gojyo was too restless to sleep yet, as it was still relatively early in the evening, and he was feeling caged in by the stuffy air of the compartments and a little nervous, thanks to all the talk of dark monks and evil powers. He really could have done without all that, but reminded himself it was far better to know what he might be dealing with than to be uninformed and naive. Better the enemy you know… etc. Frustrated, he paced through the cars to try to find a place to enjoy something resembling fresh air. He found a small railed platform between two of the cars that had room enough for him to stand if he pressed his back against the cold steel body of the car, so he lit up a smoke and propped himself there, watching the dark shadows of the scenery roll by in the night, illuminated only by the half-moon when it came out from behind the thick clouds. He felt a shiver pass through him, and he wasn't sure if it was the cool air rushing by his face, or Sanzo's words echoing through his head, about the Sanzo priest gone bad. Gojyo had seen the power of Sanzo's sutra up close and personal on several occasions, and the idea of that kind of thing, worse yet, a sutra of death and nothingness, in the hands of someone evil, gave him the absolute heebie-jeebies, especially the thought that the same person had some sort of mad-on against the members of his group.

Suddenly Gojyo felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, and he had a distinct feeling he was being watched. He turned quickly, tensed to summon his shakujou, and glanced at the sooty glass window of the door into the train car. He could have sworn he saw a dark shadowy figure facing him there but by the time he pulled focus it was gone. As he turned to look back into the night a flock of ravens sitting on a telegraph wire by the train track suddenly took flight as the train passed, their shadowy wings barely visible in the darkness as they cawed loudly and flapped upwards into the night in the cool mountain air.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which spirits of all kinds affect Sanzo and Gojyo...

Chapter Four

The first evening on the train, after Gojyo left him, Sanzo slept soundly: a deep, dreamless sleep lulled by the rolling of the train, the unceasing rhythm of the iron wheels rocking against the endless ribbons of steel.

Gojyo wandered in around midnight, a little the worse for wear from imbibing the better part of a bottle of Mongolian vodka in the dining car in an attempt to take his mind off of both his roommate and his worries, despite having been forewarned about the liquor's toxic affects by the server.

The inebriated hanyou arrived, precariously carrying a tray with two cups of hot tea that the dining car steward had pressed on him before shooing him out. He had been assured that the tea would guarantee him of no hangover in the morning, and that he and his roommate both would sleep much better for having consumed it. Knowing all too well how Sanzo frequently had trouble sleeping, Gojyo had happily taken the extra cup, just in case the pissy monk happened to be awake when he returned.

Which, in point of fact, Sanzo was, albeit a bit a bleary-eyed and cranky, as he sat up having a smoke, with his newspaper slung out loosely across his lap.

"Where the hell have you been?" he growled as Gojyo set the tray down carefully, having already spilled a good third of the cups' contents on the small tray during the trip from the dining car.

The kappa waved his hand airily at his grouchy roommate, and tried his best fight the slurring that somehow kept creeping into his speech.

"Hey, hey, now. Don' bite the hand that feeds you. Or teas you. Or whatever. Anyway, I come bearing gifts. Or gift." Frustrated, he tried to simplify his message. "I brought you some tea. Suppose' to help ya sleep."

"Good," the blond snarled, "because thanks to your letting me go to sleep in the fucking middle of the day, I'll never get back to sleep now."

Gojyo smiled, his eyes half-lidded as he remembered.

"But you looked sooooo cute, Sanzo, like a little kitty-cat or something, all curled up and sleepy-eyed…" He grinned happily. "Like Betty. Remember Betty? You looked like…"

"Are you trying to get shot, or are you just that drunk?" Sanzo snapped, cutting him off before he could dig either of them in any deeper with his foolishness.

"Heh." Gojyo fought back a giggle as he slouched into the seat next to Sanzo, nearly making him spill his tea. Sanzo hunched over his tea protectively and scowled as Gojyo made the giggling sound again. "Heh heh heh."

"What the hell is it now? I suppose you expect me to ask you what you find so fucking humorous. Like I give a rosy red shit."

"Aw, c'mon, don' be that way, Sanzo-sama," Gojyo cajoled, suffused with a renewed sense of camaraderie and good humor nurtured by the spirits he had consumed. "Can't a frien' tell another frien' he thinks he's cute when he's sleepin' without the frien' getting' all bent out of shape, an' all?"

A beaming smile split Gojyo's face as he continued. "I mean, you were really cute. I mean, we're talkin' fuckin' greetin' card cute, Sanzo... We're talkin', 'warm a gran'ma's heart' kinda cute… We're talkin', little puppies an' kitties, an' those kids with the huge eyes kinda cute, ya know, like in those pictures?..."

He waved his hands around, gesticulating wildly, attempting to add imagery with his flails to compensate for what he seemed to be so inadequately communicating with his words, but the only effect was that Sanzo backed even further away from him on the seat, giving him warning glares, and looking even more likely to shoot him at any minute.

The grisly sound of Sanzo's teeth grinding against each other was growing louder and louder as Gojyo prattled on, audible even over the drunken kappa's ramblings and the constant rumbling sounds of the train.

"Gojyo!!!" Sanzo barked abruptly, his last taut nerve finally snapping.

Gojyo's jaw slammed shut in mid-sentence, and his eyes cut sharply to view the dangerous clouds lowering in his roommate's now-dark-purple eyes. Even in the half-breed's drunken haze he knew it was time to just shut up, if he valued his life, so he grabbed his cup of tea, and slumped down in his seat, resolving to be a good boy.

They rode together in relative silence for several minutes, sipping their tea, and when their tea was finished, even sharing a smoke together, with no further words being exchanged. Sanzo reveled in the blissful quiet. Until…

"Heh…"

"THAT'S IT!" the monk exploded. "Take your shit and get in that fucking room and lock that goddamn door and I don't want to see you or hear one single word from you until tomorrow morning – late – and I don't want to EVER, and I mean EVER – hear one fucking word about 'cute' or goddamn puppies or kitties from you ever again. I mean EVER. Do you fucking hear me, Sha fucking Gojyo? Or so help me, by all the gods and goddesses, I will shoot your fucking ass, then cut you up into tiny little pieces, and then throw your body off this train, bit by bit, all the way to Chang'-fucking-an. Only the vultures will know what happened to you!!"

He stood up to deliver his tirade, looming over Gojyo, who slid further and further down into his seat during the angry rant by the red-faced monk. The still-grinning kappa was quieted, but not truly cowed. At the word "vultures," Gojyo sat up smartly, suddenly remembering the birds on the wire and the dark presence he thought he had seen, which he had resolved to tell Sanzo about, hours earlier when it had happened.

"Ooh, ooh, Sanzo! Listen! Listen! There were these birds!..."

"OUT!"

"No, but really, Sanzo…"

"OUT!"

Cutting him off completely, Sanzo pulled him up by his collar and manhandled him towards his door. Gojyo turned around, his hands held up in a gesture of appeal, and tried again.

"But, Sanzo, I jus' wanna tell ya…"

"OUT!"

Sanzo shoved him all the way into his room, completing the process with the final application of a tabi-covered foot to Gojyo's behind.

"No, but, Sanzo, jus' listen…"

"OUT!"

Sanzo slammed the door, locked it, and sat back down on his couch, where he began rubbing his temples. He found he had a throbbing headache: a headache so bad, and yet somehow so familiar that he decided to give it a name.

"Gojyo..." he muttered.

 

**********************************************

 

The huge dark birds hovered over Sanzo as he ran across the open field, much closer overhead than such creatures normally circled, making him feel very vulnerable. The priest was feeling more and more uneasy, the nearer they got, almost like the birds knew something he didn't, and he tried to run faster, feeling an increasing need to escape them now.

The slow sweepings of their heavy black wings as they glided in their gradually-tightening circle made a quiet "shooshing" sound, soft but getting steadily louder, that caused a constriction in his throat that he had to swallow hard against. He fought against the panic that was rising in his chest and forced his legs to pump faster, feeling the burn in his thigh muscles, and the sharp pang of a stitch blooming under his ribcage.

He felt for the Smith & Wesson to fire off a few rounds to scare them off, and realized to his acute dismay he had neither the gun nor the Sutra to protect himself with. His brain raced as he realized just how vulnerable he was, out in the open like this, alone against this congregated force of the darker side of nature.

He tried to think rationally, but the mostly what he felt was pissed-off: how the hell had this happened? And since he was fairly sure he would never have gotten himself into a situation like this, then goddamn it, whoever the fuck's fault it was, Sanzo made a mental note to see to it that they suffered a slow and painful death, when he caught the guilty party.

He craved a smoke like holy hell but knew it would just have to wait, and as he struggled to suck enough air into his spasming lungs as he ran, he could just hear Hakkai's chiding voice in his head, needling him about smoking too much, and how it was naturally going to be affecting his wind.

Sanzo forced himself look down at the ground ahead of him instead of up at the ugly black birds, telling himself he needed to watch where he was going so he didn't stumble and fall, but he really just desperately needed to tear his eyes away from them to fight off the encroaching panic.   
He kept remembering all the stories he had heard as a child in the Temple about sky burials: how with the help of the rogyapas and their sharp charnel blades, the carrion birds would surround the high peak, devouring and carrying every last speck of the deceased off into the mountain winds, leaving nothing but a clean bare space in the small meadow where the body had been. He suppressed a shudder, picturing it now again in his mind's eye. The priests could say all they wanted to about how it was just returning the "empty shell" back to the earth and sky from which it came, feeding the hungry creatures of this world with one's lifeless flesh, one last dharmic gesture of charity, but he wasn't quite done with his shell yet, at least not at the moment.

He actually began to curse his tobacco habit himself as his lungs started to burn like they were sucking in fire, instead of the dry desert air, and yet he found the pain strangely reassuring: at least as long as he felt it, he knew he was still alive. Still, his difficulty breathing, combined with the failing strength in his legs, told him he couldn't go on like this much longer.

He heard the swooshing sound stop and chanced a quick glance upwards, to see if his tormentors had perchance abandoned their apparent intention of making a meal of him. But instead, they had somehow suddenly morphed into a larger seething group of not silent, hulking vultures, but instead thousands upon thousands of smaller noisy dark birds, perhaps ravens.

Sanzo remembered from some dim recess of trivia in his brain that the collective term for that particular bird was an "unkindness of ravens," and as he looked up at the swirling black swarm, it certainly seemed appropriate. There were so very many, the group itself seemed to have become an entity all its own, all moving of one accord, and as soon as he made eye contact they began their hideous collective cawing. The raucous cacophony they were making was almost deafening, and only served to escalate Sanzo's terror.

The shape of the unkindness was a concave hemisphere, a living, writhing, black bowl nearly blocking out the light of the desert sun, and it seemed to be descending towards his head at an alarming rate now. It was still following right along with him as he ran: he stopped, and they stopped, he ran, and they started right along with him again. It seemed at the same time both unbelievably surreal, and terrifyingly all-too-real to Sanzo as he frantically continued to try to escape them and their malevolent intentions towards him.

As he ran, he scanned the barren landscape around him for somewhere to seek shelter from them. There were small valleys and rises, and the occasional barren tree, but no place that looked remotely promising as far as offering any real shelter from his desperate plight. As he surveyed his surroundings, straining his eyes to the surrounding horizon for any possible place of respite, the toe of his sandal hooked on an errant rock, and he went tumbling down on his rubbery legs, the palms of his hands shredding on the sharp rocks in the rocky soil as he fell. He was breathless and panting anyway, and the harsh fall stunned him, knocking the wind out of him completely for a moment.

The ravens took the advantage of that instant to begin their descent, and as Sanzo began to scrabble frantically for his footing to rise up again, they were on him. He struggled uselessly against the tangled folds of his robes as they wrapped around his tired legs, restraining him, draining what little strength he had left. There was no way he could even stand as the seething, cawing, writhing mass of black avian fury spiraled down towards him, and he crawled desperately along the ground, trying frantically to escape it, the jagged rocks and cactus thorns tearing at his bloody hands as he scrabbled for handholds in the rocky sand to pull himself away.

He knew in some animal place in the back of his brain that it was futile, that he was finished, no matter how much he wanted to deny the fact. A soundless, helpless, terrified scream formed in the back of his throat…. A bitter taste rose up in his mouth, and his vision began to blur.

This wasn't how it was supposed to end, goddammit…

There was supposed to be…

…more…

The last thing he remembered was a strange hammering sound, sounding like it was coming from far away, as his world became only darkness. He was certain he was hearing the last dying beats of his own heart.

 

****************************

 

"Sanzo!!"

Gojyo pounded on the door.

Sanzo stirred restlessly in his tangled, sweat-dampened sheets as the first light of day peeped in around the cracked celluloid blinds of the sleeping car cubicle.

"OI!! SANZO!!!"

Gojyo hammered with his fist on the door between their rooms again, adding a few vicious kicks for good measure. He had heard sounds coming from Sanzo's room that he didn't like one bit: muffled cries, and sounds like the monk was being strangled, and he was damned if he was going to let that go, if he was going to let the goddamn pissy-assed priest have his precious privacy while he was being snuffed.

"SANZO!! If you don't open this goddamn door in five seconds, bouzu, I swear to the Merciful Goddess I am going to kick it down!"

Sanzo gradually opened his eyes, his heart still pounding mercilessly as the horrendous world of the nightmare began to recede and the world around him began to become real. He had a splitting headache, and Gojyo's banging on the door was not helping matters. It did, however, bring him awake more quickly.

Impatient, Gojyo began to count down, "Five…Four…Three…"

"ALRIGHT!" Sanzo snarled, tumbling out of the berth and staggering to the door and unlocking it, "so, the rumors weren't true, the kappa can count, after all," he snarked.

Gojyo glared at him and stormed through the opened door.

"What the hell has got your panties in such a bunch, first thing in the morning? Fucking hell!" Sanzo exclaimed crankily, as he rubbed his eyes, falling back into the berth and looking around desperately for a smoke, hoping that his first cigarette might mitigate the pounding in his skull that had taken over for the kappa's pounding on the door.

"What is my fucking problem?" Gojyo exploded, aggravated at being bitched at for his very legitimate concern. "It sounded like someone was fucking killing you in here, that's what my fucking problem is." The hanyou paced around the room, pausing to look at Sanzo stem to stern and assess his apparent good health, despite his having been nearly-murdered, from the sound of things. "What the fuck was going on in here?" he demanded.

"What?" Sanzo asked blurrily as he exhaled slowly, having finally found a smoke. He thought about Gojyo's question for a second. "Oh…. that. Nightmare. Guess I was making some noise or something." He considered a minute, scrubbing his hand over his face as some of the details of the dream came back to him. "It was kind of… creepy." As he remembered more, Sanzo realized he wanted more and more to just forget it.

Gojyo sat down and lit a smoke for himself, trying to keep Sanzo from seeing how much his own hands were still trembling. He inhaled deeply and let it out quickly before he spoke.

"Creepy, my ass." He shook his head ruefully. "I'm not shitting you, man. You were making some fucking scary sounds, Sanzo. Gave me the willies." He shivered involuntarily.

Sanzo raised an eyebrow, "really? Hmmm. Odd," and seemed quite nonplussed about it.

Gojyo narrowed his eyes at the priest, slightly irritated by Sanzo's apparent lack of appreciation for his concern for his well-being.

"Gods," he muttered, "I hope you aren't going to do that every night between here and Chang'an. "

Undaunted, he turned to Sanzo with a leer on his lips.

"I know… Uncle Gojyo will just have to do something to make sure you are sleeping better. Uncle Gojyo knows all kinds of ways to make pretty little boys sleepy…" he purred, putting on his best sleazy pedophile voice, and creeping his hands across the bed towards Sanzo's thigh.

Sanzo slapped his wandering paw away dismissively. "Uncle Gojyo can just keep his lousy paws to himself. Pretty little boys have big guns. And get out of my damned bed."

Gojyo sighed, feigning disappointment, "oh, you're no fun at all."

"Yeah, whatever. I need coffee for this head. Let's get dressed and go eat. Either that or you can go bring me coffee."

"You get dressed. I'll watch," Gojyo grinned, settling back into his seat with an expectant look at the blond. It wasn't like he hadn't seen Sanzo dress before in hundreds of assorted inns and campsites, but there was something about their being alone, and so close together, in this rolling hotel that was really getting to Gojyo. He realized he was clearly finding Sanzo much harder to resist than usual, that something was changing, shifting between them. Unfortunately, he thought to himself, he wasn't getting much of a mutual vibe along those lines from the goddamned ice princess of priests. But then Sanzo was almost impossible to read about pretty much everything, so it would figure he would be inscrutable about his sexual desires as well…

"Gojyo…"

"Alright, alright. Can't blame a guy for trying." He sighed and rose reluctantly. "It's gonna be a long boring day anyway in this tin can on wheels.. Why don't we go ahead and have a decent breakfast. Because, as you know, Hakkai always says…" and they chorused together in deadpan imitations of the healer's most prim, didactic voice:

"…Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!!"

 

****************************

 

Later on, at breakfast, Gojyo found himself surreptitiously studying Sanzo over the rim of his coffee cup, and his practiced eyes noticed fine lines feathering out across the monk's forehead under his fringe of pale hair, far more than were usually there, as well as faint dark circles under the down-turned violet eyes, which he saw were more deeply-hooded than usual. After falling asleep early the day before, and then going back to bed for even more sleep after that, it seemed to him that Sanzo should be looking more bright-eyed and rested than usual, not less. And despite the obvious fatigue, Sanzo was clearly more tense than usual, as well: the hanyou could easily see the slight bulge in the finely-chiseled profile that indicated his jaw was tightly clenched, and when he looked at Sanzo's neck where it disappeared into his shirt collar, Gojyo saw the raised cords of veins pulsing in the pale column of his neck: he would bet that the monk's blood pressure was through the roof at the moment.

Gojyo was definitely convinced that there was something was amiss with the closed-mouthed bouzu: something far beyond the usual burden basket-full of guilt, ghosts, unwanted responsibilities, and dead hopes that the holy man carried silently, day-in, day-out. Gojyo wondered, knowing Sanzo's proclivity for non-self-disclosure, just how bad this new problem might be, to be causing him to retreat even further than usual behind his crusty exterior, and how hard it was going to be to ferret it out of him. The problem, of course, lay in getting the thick-skinned houshi to share anything… Looking at Sanzo, it was clear to Gojyo that his best hope for everything was in finding as many means as possible of getting him to relax during the remainder of their time alone together on the trip.

Sanzo glared daggers at Gojyo the minute he caught the redhead looking at him, choosing to interpret his traveling companion's looks of concern as pure, unadulterated lust. As far as the reactions he seemed to be having, despite himself, in response to said lust, Sanzo chose to regard it all as merely an unwelcome aberration, probably just due to stress, fatigue, and confinement in small quarters for too long with the hormonal watersprite. He assured himself it was just those factors, combining to provoke an unfortunate natural response from his own unruly body, one that he would, of course, simply overrule and ignore… It was just one of the many reasons why he had not wanted the erogappa to accompany him, he thought to himself as he tried to avoid the other's warm scarlet gaze. And it was absolutely meaningless, beyond being a simple inconvenience, that his jeans were becoming uncomfortably tight in the crotch area at the moment… He was relieved that they were sitting in a booth instead of the bench seat in the dining car, because he was certain the damned kappa would have immediately noticed his predicament, given half a chance, and no doubt would have wrongly interpreted it.

"What?!" he demanded snappishly, trying to ignore the growing heat he felt in his groin as the half-breed gazed at him. "What is your major malfunction, asshole?"

"So, what was that dream of yours about?" Gojyo asked casually, suppressing a grin. His acute hanyou olfactory sense had ratted Sanzo out: the scent of his arousal was unmistakable to Gojyo, and he could have recognized it in a roomful of skunks. It also told him something very valuable. So the perfect ivory priest was made of flesh after all... Gojyo's brain whirled with new possibilities, and he had to take a deep breath – through his mouth - and corral his thoughts to stay on-task and ignore the immediate response his body was having to Sanzo's scent.

"I dunno… birds and shit," Sanzo replied vaguely, retreating behind his newspaper and rustling it irritably.

Gojyo sat up a little straighter in his seat, his fantasies about himself and Sanzo giving way for the time being to more pressing concerns. He took a sip of his coffee, and waited a second or two.

"What kind of birds?" he asked, as nonchalantly as he could manage.

Sanzo dropped his paper back down, sighing heavily. "I don't know… why? Why do you ask?"

Gojyo rolled his eyes irritably, as if Sanzo was being slightly simple.

"Well, one doesn't usually wake up screaming from nightmares about chickadees and titmice."

Sanzo closed his eyes for a second or two and images of the horrendous nightmare teased at the corners of his mind, not enough to give him the whole story, but enough to bring back the feeling of panic, and some clear pictures of the terrible imagery of the dream. He sighed.

"Vultures. Lots of vultures. Over my head, and I was running. Then they changed - lots more of them, but something smaller and darker. Black- crows, I think – no, ravens. Yeah, it was ravens. The sound is different. We had ravens around the temple for a while when I was a kid. I remember now."

Gojyo practically swallowed his tongue when Sanzo said vultures, but he schooled his face into a calm expression, and told himself over and over that it was just a coincidence. He forced himself to focus on what Sanzo was saying, and remember the details. If nothing else it, was unusual for the monk to open up about his dreams and his childhood, and any tidbits of information, even small ones, helped him to understand the mystery that was Genjyo Sanzo that much better.

"So these birds… they were chasing you?" he ventured carefully.

Sanzo plunked down the paper crossly.

"Look, Gojyo… I don't remember, and I don't fucking want to remember. If I woke up screaming and shit, why should I want to remember it? Let it go. Gimme a fuckin' break!"

Sanzo pulled the paper back up firmly, obviously forbidding any further conversation, at least on that subject. Gojyo chewed his lip worriedly. Sanzo may be trying to ignore or bury his own concerns, but something was definitely bothering the kappa now. It was all on a vague intuitive level, but too many things were slightly out of place, not fitting into the right groove… There was something or someone behind it all, he just knew it, and it wasn't good.

Goyjo couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he definitely had what Banri used to call a "fuckin' bad feeling," and it wasn't all just the after-effects of the Mongolian vodka.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an ill wind blows through the train with strange consequences...

Chapter Five

Gojyo's sense of foreboding did nothing but increase from that point on. He had the distinct feeling that he and Sanzo were being watched, and the uncomfortable sensation that someone was constantly following them as they moved around the train, although - try as he might - he could never catch anyone actually doing anything that was in the least bit suspicious. He almost felt like that dark presence he had sensed the first night was there perched lightly on his shoulder, or lurking around just behind his back, and the sensation was pressing down on him harder and closer every minute.

Of course he didn't say anything about it to Sanzo: there was no point in both of them being worried. Besides, there was just nothing he could actually prove, and very little he could even put into words, plus he knew that Sanzo would completely blow him off anyway, no matter what he said, so why bother? But he just knew, just as sure as he was Mama Sha's little red-headed boy, that something was off, really essentially wrong, on that train, and it was making him more and more uneasy with each passing mile.

Gojyo stayed pretty much glued to Sanzo's side the entire day after the monk's disturbing nightmare, so much so that Sanzo began to get irritable with him - more irritable than usual, that is. He started giving the hanyou the frosty, raised-eyebrow 'glare of unmistakable warning', indicating to Gojyo beyond all doubt that he'd best back way off, beyond the striking reach of the fan, possibly even beyond the firing range of the Smith & Wesson, lest the monk become sufficiently irked. Undeterred, the kappa was not about to let the priest out of his sight, no matter how testy he got with him. Gojyo began to wonder just how he was going to maintain his hyper-vigilant security detail, especially later that night, when he knew Sanzo would be even more determined to chase him off, and banish him to the confines of his own compartment.

During the day Gojyo managed to keep finding excuses to stay near him: constantly distracting Sanzo with various diversions, plying him with coffee and snacks, and fetching him odds and ends he might need or to keep him entertained, at least enough to help him abide Gojyo's constant presence. Though he began to be annoyed by the relentless attention being showered on him, Sanzo was silently amused by this new indentured servitude of Gojyo's, and was somewhat disposed to tolerate it, for a while at least, especially when he could see how hard Gojyo was straining to find ways to keep it up without irritating him.

Gojyo struggled to find a steady stream of subjects to with which engage Sanzo in conversation, resorting to small talk about the rest of the Ikkou and the Mission when all else failed, and eventually even wheedling the monk into playing a few hands of cards when he ran out of conversation topics. Finally, out of sheer desperation, he even resorted to asking for and feigning to read sections of Sanzo's newspaper, as if he suddenly shared Sanzo's fascination with current events. He knew he was really pushing the limits of his credibility with that one, as Sanzo kept suspiciously cutting his eyes over at him, making sure Gojyo was actually reading the newspaper.

"Since when did you develop such a sudden interest in journalism?" Sanzo asked dubiously.

"I never get a chance to read the damn paper. Someone else always grabs it first and runs off with it," Gojyo retorted tartly.

"Tch." The monk remained unconvinced and retreated behind his paper.

"Hey, mister high and mighty monk, you don't know absolutely everything about me," Gojyo said airily, holding the paper high and making a big show of slowly turning the pages as he tried to find something interesting in it.

"For which I am duly grateful," Sanzo responded disdainfully. "Ignorance is bliss."

Gojyo had a sudden inspiration of a way to pass the time with Sanzo that might prove far more interesting than anything any dry old newspaper had to offer.

"Aww, c'mon, Sanzo-sama," he said challengingly, "there must be something about me you always wanted to know. Let's play 'Truth or Dare,' but without the dare. You can ask me absolutely anything, and I get to ask you anything I want. But the deal is, the answer has to be the truth – and no dodging." He grinned with anticipation as he awaited Sanzo's response.

"Not just no, but hell no," Sanzo growled, scowling at Gojyo and retreating back behind his paper again. "I'd rather shove red hot skewers into my eyes."

"I knew it, I knew you'd fuckin' wimp out. You're such a pussy," Gojyo taunted.

"Go fuck yourself." The newspaper didn't budge.

"Little chicken priest," Gojyo said smugly, as if he had won by default. He crossed his arms across his chest and made a series of quiet clucking sounds under his breath as he looked out the window. He knew Sanzo's male pride couldn't take but so much more of this treatment, as much as he might try to resist it.

"Oh, goddamnit…. ALRIGHT!" Sanzo snapped. "Anything to shut you the fuck up. But just once, and I go first. And nothing too…" he suppressed a shudder as his mind reeled with the assortment of questions Gojyo's perverted mind might come up with for him. "…Nothing too weird," he said firmly, glaring at the kappa's grinning visage. "And I go first," he reiterated.

"First to ask, or first to answer?" Gojyo tried not to look as happy as he really felt, knowing that if he let it show, it would just drive Sanzo's suspicious side into the open, and push the "real" Sanzo deeper into hiding. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep a check on his spreading grin, which was threatening to split his face if he really let it go.

Sanzo sighed heavily.

"Ask." He dropped his forehead briefly into his hand, as he realized either option had its drawbacks. "No. Answer, I guess. Gods, why did I agree to this? Yeah… answer, I suppose. Go on, get it the fuck over with."

Gojyo didn't even have to stop and think. He had wanted to ask the priest basically the same thing for ages, pretty much since the day he had first met him, when Sanzo had shown up at the door of his house looking for the fugitive Cho Gonou. He had actually kind of asked him the question already, two days ago in the dining car, but Sanzo had, of course, evaded it, as he always did anything on the subject of sex. But now that the priest had made a deal with Gojyo to be truthful, he wouldn't be able to dodge the bullet so easily this time. The only problem now was that Gojyo knew he had to figure out the best way to phrase his question, so as to elicit the maximum amount of information from Sanzo in response, and not let him weasel out with a simple yes or no. He considered the situation carefully: this was a rare opportunity, and he didn't want to squander it.

"So, Sanzo-sama…" he asked nonchalantly, picking casually at the loose threads on his pants, and carefully evading Sanzo's piercing glare, "just how long has it been since you gave up on making it with guys, anyway?"

Gojyo could feel the tension coiling up in Sanzo's body immediately in reaction to the question, almost as if he had been physically struck, as the multiple implications of the question hit him. Pale arched eyebrows flew up over wide darkening eyes as the priest's nostrils flared with indignation. Sanzo's pale cheeks pinked, and he began to sputter angrily.

"I… That's not…! I don't….! You…!"

"You agreed to answer anything I asked, cherry-chan," Gojyo prodded in a calm, slightly lilting voice.

Sanzo gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. He was trapped, and he knew it.

"You're really pushing your luck, asshole," he snarled. He lit a cigarette, exhaled slowly and glowered at Gojyo for a long moment before continuing. "I should have known better than to get myself into something like this with you." He took another deep breath as he continued, his voice low and gravelly, with a strong taint of menace.

"Not that one whit of this is any of your goddamn business, but I … Gah!! I fucking hate this!…" He realized he was getting louder as he became more agitated, and quieted his voice, looking around to make sure no one was listening as he went on.

"I haven't … 'been with' …anyone – ok, a man, are you happy?! – for over seven years. And I didn't 'give up' as you call it, I just… " Sanzo sighed heavily, his voice and his expression both darkening as he dropped his voice down another notch, struggling to maintain his tenuous control in this untenable situation. "I just didn't exactly have the best of experiences the first few times – let's just leave it at that. Ok?" He sighed again, and lit a fresh cigarette, his eyes still dark and angry. "Are we done? Is that enough for you, you goddamn vulture?"

Gojyo could tell from Sanzo's face that his 'experiences' as he called them had probably been anything but voluntary. Well, small wonder then that the guy hadn't pursued any further activities since then, Gojyo thought to himself, between that and the baggage of being a freaking priest like he was. He counted back the seven years, which would have placed the incidents during the time period when he knew the young, newly-annointed Genjyo Sanzo had been traveling around the country alone, looking for sutras and revenge. He didn't know much about that time in Sanzo's life, but he knew enough about the world to know that a boy as young and pretty as Sanzo had been, traveling alone, even armed with a banishing gun, was quite likely to have had a very, very bad time of it. Gojyo could only imagine what horrors he had been subjected to, and at such a tender age. And to top it all off, for any guy Sanzo's age to have gone that long, without any sex – Buddha's blue balls, it was no wonder the monk was in such a freaking bad mood all the time!

Gojyo felt like he had just been handed all four corner pieces to the 'Great Big 5000 Piece Genjyo Sanzo Jigsaw Puzzle.' But while he was immediately flooded with compassion for the arrogant priest, he knew from his own experiences (at nearly the same age) with his mother that pity was the very last thing in the world that Sanzo would ever want or accept. Gojyo had long ago learned how to compartmentalize the sad things in life: it was a survival skill he had learned growing up, it was something he and Sanzo shared, and it certainly came in useful on the Mission on a regular basis. He called on that skill now as he pasted a big leering smile on his face for Sanzo's benefit.

"Ah, now see, I always suspected as much," he grinned. "I've seen you walk right on past so many absolutely fuckin' gorgeous babes, ones that would have any normal heterosexual man rising from the dead to give a six-gun salute, and you never so much as bat an eyelash."

"Tch." Sanzo stubbed out his cigarette and looked away, pointedly ignoring him, and trying to steer his own mind away from unwelcome ghosts of his past that had been evoked by Gojyo's question.

"But now, for me, goldilocks, this is a double win," he said leaning towards Sanzo and speaking confidentially as he slung a lanky arm loosely around Sanzo's shoulder. "The way I see it, this makes for less competition for the ladies from another really good-looking dude, which is clearly a plus, AND, I now know I stand a fighting chance myself of scoring a home run with said really good-looking dude. It's a win-win, see? A total no-brainer."

Sanzo tipped his head down and looked disparagingly down his nose at the hanyou over the rims of his wire-rimmed glasses, growling threateningly, "don't… fucking…count on it." He abruptly flicked Gojyo's arm off of his shoulder as if it was a body part of an annoying bug, and sat back in his seat, harrumphing loudly.

"I believe I still get to ask you a question, asshole," he reminded Gojyo coolly.

He took off his glasses and scowled at the hanyou, suddenly considering just exactly how he wanted to use his question to do maximum damage in revenge for the difficult question Gojyo had asked him. Sanzo could still feel the heat in his cheeks from the flush that his risen there while he had revealed far more of himself and his past to the kappa than he would have ever thought possible.

"Ask away, my friend, my life is an open book," Gojyo said airily, waving his hand dismissively. He leaned back against the bench seat contentedly, threading his hands together as a headrest behind his head.

Sanzo cocked his head to one side a bit and studied him for a long moment, one pale eyebrow raised slightly. He leaned into Gojyo's space just enough for the hanyou to notice.

"Why do you stay?" he asked quickly and plainly. His voice had been far more serious than he meant it to be, and he realized he actually truly did want to know what the kappa's answer would be. "I couldn't get rid of the goddamn bakasaru with a rocket launcher," he elaborated, "and Hakkai still thinks he's paying off some kind of a fucking cosmic debt, despite everything I tell him to the contrary, so – in their minds - they have to be here, on the Mission. But you… don't. You… you could leave any time. Yet you stay. The longest you've known any of us is a year or two – there can't be that deep an attachment. I treat you like shit. But you stay. Through the blood, and the filth, and the danger, and the imminent death that follows us like a shithouse stink, and… just the fucking unholy inconvenience of it all. You stay… Why?"

Gojyo looked down at his knees, a small, cryptic smile pulling at one corner of his mouth, and considered Sanzo's question for a long moment. He wasn't entirely sure how to answer him.

In the beginning it had been just another one of Gojyo's impulsive acts: something to do for the hell of it, because his buddy Hakkai was going, and it seemed interesting, and, well, largely for the lack of anything better to do. But it had swiftly come to be about so much more than that. The odd little gang of four had quickly become the warm but dysfunctional family Gojyo had never had. The Mission had given him a sense of purpose his life had up 'til then been sadly lacking, something more than sex, booze, and cards: he had become a part of something bigger than himself, for the first time in his life. And then there was the fighting: there was something about the rush of summoning his shakujou, defending his friends in battle, and always knowing there was that larger goal behind it all, that had made him feel more vibrant and alive than all his drinking and fighting and gambling and whoring before had ever managed to do. So there were a lot of really good reasons - but how to explain that to Sanzo… and how much did he really want to tell him?

And then there was Sanzo himself. That was another reason, one that was becoming more and more important to Gojyo every day: just being with the great Genjyo Sanzo the 31st of China and all that entailed, good, bad, and indifferent (most days there was lots and lots of indifferent) was unlike anything Gojyo could ever have imagined. Merciful Goddess, he was certainly never bored. And hell, even if he never got to fuck the monk, it was still worth the ride, just to be around him – although, holy gods, to get to fuck Sanzo would be beyond spectacular, and more than worth enduring the worst of the shit that happened to him on the Mission: Gojyo just knew it, deep in his kappa bones.

"Well…" he said quietly, a fire banking deep in his dark ruby eyes that there was no way Sanzo could miss, "for one thing, I guess I just wanna stick around and see how it all turns out – I fuckin' hate to miss the end of a story, y'know?" He winked and slid his arm back up around Sanzo's shoulder again and smiled impishly. He leaned in even closer to speak in Sanzo's ear, cutting his eyes dramatically around at the passengers on either side of them, whispering confidentially, as if he was about to reveal a crucial state secret.

"The other reason is going to have to wait until we are alone, cherry-chan." Sanzo began to squirm under his arm. "We can go now, if you are in a hurry…," Gojyo volunteered, gesturing in the direction of their sleeping compartments, and grinning wolfishly.

"Bah!" Sanzo cried, knocking his arm off with a sharp jab of an elbow, "I should have known better than to ever expect a serious answer from you about anything."

"You think I'm kidding?" Gojyo pouted. "Man, I must be getting rusty, gotta work on my delivery."

"No, I think you're just a big fucking jackass, as usual,"Sanzo said irritably, shoving Gojyo away from him on the bench so abruptly that the kappa almost hit the floor. Sanzo retreated back behind the newspaper and tried hard to ignore the physical effects the erogappa's suggestive banter had had on him, not to mention the lump in his throat that had developed when he heard Gojyo's initial answer to his question. He knew the kappa well enough by now to be able to tell when there was more going on in the his mind than his words conveyed: just by virtue of the fact that he had paused so long before he answered, it was clear to Sanzo there was far more on Gojyo's mind than he had said. Sanzo had always known he wasn't the only one in their group that never revealed the true depth and complexity of their feelings. If the truth be told, Goku was the only one among them who was largely an open book, speaking pretty much everything he felt. But then Sanzo preferred things unspoken to spoken: the less said the better as far as he was concerned. Life was just far simpler that way.

On the other hand, Gojyo had certainly had no trouble making his libidinous intentions plain enough as he draped himself around Sanzo. Images of what could possibly transpire between them, alone together in their sleeping compartments that night, flitted relentlessly through Sanzo's mind as the train rolled over the endless miles of rails in the waning afternoon, and he was greatly relieved he had agreed to answer only one question in Gojyo's stupid game.

After dinner, Gojyo managed to talk Sanzo into a game of chess in their compartment, having borrowed a chess set from some fellow travelers in their section. Sanzo was skeptical that the hanyou could actually play, but Gojyo assured him that Hakkai had taught him the game while they were living together. He had not lied in saying that he could play, but what he had failed to disclose was the fact that he was deplorably bad at the game, and as he had expected, Sanzo was fairly good, having been taught by Koumyou as a child. It was a measure of Gojyo's desperation to keep Sanzo close at hand that he was willing to be beaten so badly, over and over again, and endure the smug gloating by the monk as he was so roundly and repeatedly defeated.

"I thought you said you knew how to play this game," Sanzo prodded impatiently as he checkmated him for the sixth straight time. "This is like shooting an unarmed man."

"I do know how to play. I'm moving the pieces the right way, aren't I?" Gojyo retorted, pouting.

"Yeah, if you want to lose them as quickly as possible, it's exactly the right way," Sanzo grumbled. "This is why the Sanbutsushin put me in charge of the Mission, and not you. You obviously couldn't strategize your way out of a paper bag. And stop pouting. Chess masters do not pout."

"Blame Hakkai, he taught me," Gojyo said, frowning as Sanzo quickly took his bishop in the second move of their new game.

Gojyo had suggested they change into more comfortable clothes before playing, since they were in for the night. He dithered over every move, and dragged each game out as long as he could manage to, which wasn't easy given his inferior playing skills, and as they played, he plied Sanzo with as much whiskey as he possibly could from the two bottles he'd bought from the dining car (on Sanzo's account, of course.) It had taken some doing given the monk's capacity for alcohol, but by around eleven o'clock he had managed to get him to drink until he either fell asleep or passed out, Gojyo wasn't sure which, but either served his purposes well enough, since Sanzo seemed to be pretty far gone, whichever it was. Gojyo grinned triumphantly as he looked at the unconscious blond, flopped back limply against the bench cushion, mouth open and snoring softly. It was about as peaceful and content as Gojyo had ever seen the monk look – and he was determined to keep him that way.

He ducked into Sanzo's compartment and quickly fixed up his berth for him with fresh sheets and pillowcases, and checked to make sure the bouzu had securely stowed his sutra and gun when changing earlier, which he had. After gently carrying him in and lying him down on the berth and covering him up with the sheet and blanket, Gojyo kneeled down next to him, unable to resist watching him sleep for a moment. As often happened in those moments he was able to study Sanzo unobserved, Gojyo was quite taken aback by the sheer beauty of the man, his face now completely relaxed and unmarred by the tension that usually twisted it up and darkened it during all his waking hours.

Gojyo felt the oddest mixture of a sinking feeling in his gut and a soaring, warming elation in his head, unlike anything he had ever felt before, as he knelt there studying Sanzo's placid face. He knew beyond all doubt that he would give his life a thousand times over to protect this man: it was a feeling that as it grew had a depth and familiarity as it rooted in him, as if it had been there before, or always been there. The sense of the gravity with which he felt that responsibility for Sanzo was becoming inextricably tangled together with the intensity of the increasing attraction he felt to Sanzo. He felt a growing empathy for the monkey and how he said Sanzo was "his sun." As he looked down on him, Gojyo indeed felt an amazing blooming warmth, as if Sanzo had indeed become the center of his universe as well, and he wondered just when the hell that had happened. And all of it seemed to be heightening his senses, and bringing his life into sharper focus somehow: making each day, each moment more important. It was as if the Mission and life on the road was slowly clearing away the relentless aimlessness that had always plagued Gojyo since his childhood, and at the center of it all was Sanzo, for better or worse.

"Sleep well, Genjyo Gorgeous," he whispered, gently brushing the shaggy gold wisps back from the priest's forehead, revealing the tiny red chakra mark. As he studied the priest's profane mouth, he was drawn to touch his forefinger gently to the stilled, slightly-parted lips, and Sanzo's head turned towards him just slightly, as if seeking more of that touch. Gojyo smiled and rose, turning to leave before temptation got the better of him.

He double-checked the lock on the door to the hall and turned out the light, deliberately leaving the door between their rooms unlocked as he slipped quietly back to his room.

He was so relieved at having Sanzo safely ensconced in bed for the night, it was tempting to just go to bed himself, but he was out of cigarettes, and he was still nervous as a cat, all the more so for it being over an hour since his last smoke. Even though he was still a little zoned from all the booze he had consumed drinking with the monk, he decided it wouldn't hurt to just slip down to the bar to have a quick nightcap, buy his cigs, and come right back. It would only take a few minutes, and Sanzo was clearly out for the night: no harm, no foul. He slipped on his jeans and locked the door behind him, after taking one last peek in at the softly-snoring monk. He was truly surprised at himself, and a little proud: there was no question about him wanting to bed the monk - he did, very badly – but, ever since he had felt the dark presence on the train, keeping Sanzo safe had become even more important to Gojyo than seducing him, and had dominated his thoughts above everything else.

The dining car was empty but for one young couple – probably on their honeymoon, given how cuddled-up they were – who were seated on one of the two bench seats that constituted the bar section of the car, and a lone gentleman sitting in a dining-area booth near the other end of the car. Gojyo paused as he considered sitting in what had become his usual bench seat, which would place him directly opposite the couple. Since they could clearly use a little bit of privacy for their public snogging, Gojyo decided to head for a booth rather than take a front-row seat to the couple's display – it wasn't as if he needed any additional stimulation, after all, especially tonight. The young groom flashed him a shy, grateful smile as he moved past them, and Gojyo grinned and winked knowingly in return. The steward working the late shift recognized him and waved from his workstation at the opposite end of the car, indicating he would be with him in a moment. Gojyo nodded and slid into the first booth, seated facing the man's back, on the same side of the aisle.

The man in the other booth didn't seem to notice Gojyo coming in, and continued on with his meal uninterrupted. All Gojyo could see of the man was that he had black hair, and wore black clothes. Before coming to wait on Gojyo the steward brought the man a small pot of tea, and Gojyo noticed that the server seemed to be leaning rather low over the table, and was doing something odd as he served the tea. It looked like he was physically moving the man's arms around for him, for some reason, as if he was actually putting the man's hands on the pot of tea and the cup. The man said some soft words, too quiet for Gojyo to hear. The steward bowed, then smiled and seemed to be chuckling silently to himself as he walked towards Gojyo.

"Good evening, again, sir," the steward said as he approached Gojyo, habitually bowing once again as he greeted his newest guest. "Isn't that the dumbest thing?" he whispered, leaning down to Gojyo and speaking confidentially behind his hand. "You know, I keep bowing to that man, and he can no more see me than those trees out there can!" he jerked his thumb towards the dark forests hurtling by the sooty windows in the night. "Kinda sad, too," he shook his head ruefully. "He seems like a nice fellow. Polite enough."

Gojyo studied the man's back after sending the steward off for double shot of whiskey, and suddenly noticed a tall slender black staff resting against the wall next to the man in the booth. He had met an assortment of colorful characters in his travels over the years, but as he considered it, he had never met anyone blind, at least never someone so young. Gojyo thought about what it would be like never to be able to see Sanzo's gorgeous purple eyes again… funny how that was the first thing that came into his mind, when he considered the sights he would miss if he lost his sight. Then he thought about Hakkai's twisted and enigmatic smile, and the image of Goku bouncing along beside him in the backseat of Hakuryuu, or the soft curve of a woman's breast or calf as it disappeared temptingly into the frustrating camouflage of her dress. Not to mention the myriad of breathtaking sunsets and the huge sprawling blankets of stars he and his friends had shared so far, during their journey westward.

As he sipped on his whiskey and pondered it all, it brought tears pricking to his eyes as the immensity washed over him, just how much he took for granted in his life, and how easily it could be taken away. A simple slip of a youkai blade, something that was beyond the power of even Hakkai's healing chi to repair, and in a tick of time he could be in the same boat as that man up there… Hell, even Hakkai had already lost half of his sight. Gojyo was staggered at the idea that he, too, could suddenly be unable to see all those amazing things he took for granted, stranded alone in a world of blackness, unable to fight alongside his friends, or even to adequately defend himself, really, for the remainder of his days, stranded in a dark lonely world.

He shook his head, boggling at the concept, wondering if he would even have the strength of will to go on, if it were him, and he lost all that. He considered that if it was him, he might just summon the shakujou one final time, and be done with it, before he would ever let himself be such a burden on others, or try to face a life bereft of all light and color and shape. He honestly didn't think there was any way he could possibly cope with it all, that he could survive that particular devastation, or that he would even want to.

The more he thought about it, the more it worked on his mind, and he actually considered trying to talk to the man, to see how he handled it, and what his story was. But before he could make up his mind the man stood up, making the hanyou's heart guiltily skip a beat. Gojyo felt like a voyeur, to be caught thinking about the blind man's private business so much as he suddenly turned around and faced him, his sightless eyes shielded by small wire-rimmed dark glasses. A quick assessment told Gojyo that the man was older than him – ten years, maybe fifteen? He was not an unattractive fellow; and he looked very well-dressed, albeit rather funereal-looking. His thick black hair was longish, hanging over his collar a bit, but neatly trimmed, and he was clean-shaven with a heart-shaped face and thin dark brows that arched high over the dark glasses that hid his eyes. Gojyo's eyes were immediately drawn to his mouth, which was ample and seemed to be continually fixed in a small knowing smile that the hanyou found unnerving. Something about the guy made Gojyo feel like, blind or not, the man was either looking at him, or perhaps looking right through him.

Gojyo watched transfixed as the man pulled a large folded wad of paper money out of his pants pocket, carefully counted with his fingers through the stack, and selected a bill to place down on the table. Replacing the money in his pocket, he reached out for his staff with long, slender manicured fingers, and proceeded down the aisle. He walked with his head ever-so-slightly canted to one side, as if he was listening for something extremely quiet, and only lightly tapping ahead of himself with the staff as he went. His other hand gently grazed the top of each booth, and Gojyo guessed that he must be counting the benches as he passed. His demeanor was stiff but dramatic, like he was keenly aware that he had an audience. It seemed to Gojyo that it was almost as if he were performing, and when he was right next to Gojyo the man nodded, almost imperceptibly, but a nod nonetheless, which left Gojyo struggling not to choke on the whiskey he had in mid-swallow.

Gojyo craned his head to follow the remainder of the man's almost-regal egress from the train car, and he felt like his jaw was on his chest by the time the guy slowly closed the door behind himself. He almost felt like he was supposed to applaud or something – he definitely felt like he had witnessed something really… just fucking weird. He told himself he was being overly spooky and nervous - after all, what the hell did he know about being blind? How could he possibly understand what it would be like? But, still… Something about the whole thing bothered him, and he felt a chill as a small shiver ran through his whole body. He tried to chalk it up to the gust of cold air that the door had let in, but his sense of unease still remained.

The steward came by to see if Gojyo wanted another whiskey after settling up with the honeymooners as they left, which left just the two of them alone in the dining car. Gojyo had only planned to have one shot and leave, having already had a fair amount of whiskey already that evening while playing cards with Sanzo, but the blind guy had really rattled his cage, so he decided he would stay for another snort or two just to calm his nerves.

"Who the fuck is that guy, anyway?" he asked incredulously, still looking in the direction of the door.

The steward scanned the car to make sure they were really alone, checked his pocket watch to make sure he could lock the doors of the car for the night with impunity, and sighed softly as he realized it was actually several minutes past closing time. After locking up he snagged the same whiskey he had been serving Gojyo, carefully poured them each a shot after adding a small glass for himself to the table in front of them, and slid gratefully into the seat opposite his last guest. Gojyo reached into his pocket to pull out some rumpled bills – even if his drinks were going on the Gold Card, he wanted to at least tip the man for his efforts – but the elder man waved his hand away, settling back into the bench with another tired sigh as he held his own glass to his nose, scenting deeply of the dark amber fluid.

"This is a real treat," he smiled. "I hardly ever have a beer in here, much less a nip of the good stuff like this. Thanks for giving me an excuse." He held his glass up towards Gojyo. "Gan bei," he said, grinning.

Gojyo clicked his glass lightly to the steward's: after they both drained them quickly, the older man quickly filled their glasses with another round. They sat in companionable silence, sipping the whiskey this time, both of them mindlessly studying the chiaroscuro landscape rolling by outside the darkened window. A jolt of the rails beneath the train seemed to bring the steward back to the interior of the car, and he turned to face Gojyo again, looking more relaxed now as the alcohol brought a faint flush to his round cheeks, but still drained and tired.

"What was it you wanted to know?" he asked. He had the lined face and weary voice of a man clearly frazzled from a hard day of juggling orders and placating demanding customers, and many long years of days doing much the same. Before Gojyo could ask him again, he remembered the question, answering thoughtfully. "Oh, yeah… Mister Wu. Strange guy. Kinda sad. A little scary, too. Don't know much about him, other than what I was told before he boarded. They said we were gonna have this rich blind guy on the train, said he'd paid a lot of money for unlimited food and beverage service, and I was to give him special attention - anything he needed. They showed me how to serve him - you know – how to show him where his drinks and food and stuff was, so he could find it, but without making a big deal of it. They picked me to wait on him since I'm the most experienced one on this run, and gave me a huge tip ahead of time for taking care of him, too."

He fell silent again as he thought about the blind man. Gojyo remained silent as well, waiting, since the steward seemed so forthcoming, in his own tired, rambling way, figuring the guy would reveal more as it came to him.

"He's just… so odd," the older man said. "He just… well, he just kinda creeps me out, ya know?"

He seemed hesitant to go on, so Gojyo prodded him gently, asking simply, "how so?"

The steward finished a long sip of his whiskey, and answered slowly. "Hmm, well now, he seems to always know I'm coming before I get to him… and it's like he always knows what I'm going to ask him before I ask, and… well, I know they told me how to serve him, and show him where to put stuff for him, but… sometimes, it's like he knows where the shit…" The steward blushed, having obviously been chided for his swearing in front of customers before, "sorry, stuff, is, before I even show him. After the first few times he did it, I couldn't stand it any more."

"What did you do?" Gojyo queried, fascinated now.

The man leaned across the table and grinned, obviously enjoying having an interested audience for his tale.

"One night when we were alone, I whanged my hand right up in his face, like I was going to punch him, y'know? and hard, so fast and so close, any sighted man would have to have flinched. But he didn't turn a hair, didn't budge, not one tiny bit." He shook his head ruefully. "He's blind alright, that's for damned…. doggone it! - darned sure. I guess it's just that old thing about how their other senses get sharper… He sure is proof of it though, as I live and breathe. Freaky."

Gojyo waited a minute to see if the steward was going to volunteer anything further. When he seemed stalled again, the hanyou pressed, "do you know anything else about him?" If there was anything truly strange about anyone he and Sanzo were going to be stuck on the goddamn train with, Gojyo wanted to know about it, in as much detail as possible.

"Uhn-uh, no'sir, not much. Just that he's from somewhere west of here, an' he's traveling to Chang'an."

Gojyo's eyes got a little bigger at that coincidence, but he tried not let his concern show. He tried to tell himself millions of people traveled to Chang'an, for all kinds of different reasons.

"He's just some kind of rich businessman, travels alone, been blind all his life - that's really all I know." He shrugged, sighed, and sat back in his seat. "But then nobody tells me nothin' around here, unless the fuckin' ...oh, sorry again, 'freaking' … train is on fire."

The steward was obviously feeling pretty loosened-up, thanks to the two generous whiskeys, so Gojyo decided to take a chance on something.

"Listen, my friend, don't worry about a little fuckin' language," he grinned jovially. "The guys I travel with could make a longshoreman blush, the way we all talk. It's just you and me in here, anyway, right? So, ah, anywho, … hey, man, what is your name, anyway?"

"Chen."

"Glad to know you, Chen, Sha Gojyo. So, anyway… listen, Chen. You've seen that pissy blond fella' I come in here and eat with, right?"

"Yeah," Chen snickered softly, "always seems kinda' like he's got a pretty big stick up his… shorts."

"Yeah. Shorts, "Gojyo snorted, knowing full well from their travels together (naturally, he always looked) that the monk didn't wear shorts, or anything else under his robe, other than his jeans. "He can be a little intense, I'll give ya that. But he is kind of an important guy, got a lot on his mind. And… well, it's kind of my job to keep him… out of harm's way, if you know what I mean?" Gojyo leaned in towards Chen and gave him a conspiratorial wink. Chin nodded and grinned and waved his nearly-empty glass at him in a gesture of understanding.

"So, look, Chen, my friend, I'd really appreciate it – I'd consider it a huge favor – if you'd keep me informed if there's anything I need to know about this guy- or anyone else on the train, for that matter – that might be a … security risk… to this guy I'm responsible for. You follow me?"

As he spoke, Gojyo fished around in his jeans for his small stash of bills again. It was a almost all of the money he had with him , but he figured he could always win more off of Sanzo, or some other sucker on the train, if worst came to worst. Having an inside source helping to monitor security concerns on the train would be no small comfort to him, given the weird feelings he'd been having lately. He shoved the wad of bills discreetly across the table towards Chen under his broad palm.

Chen smiled and pushed Gojyo's hand back towards him when he saw the bills sticking out, shaking his head firmly.

"Keep your money, friend Gojyo. I'll keep an eye out for you, just because I like you. You seem like a good guy. I'm not so sure about your traveling companion, but if you say he's worth protecting, I'll take your word for it, and I'll let you know if I see anything you should worry about. On the house. You treat me like a human being, not a slave, which is more I can say for most of the passengers on this goddamned train." He tipped his glass up towards Gojyo by way of a small salute, and drained the last drops from it regretfully. "And on that note, much as I hate to say it, I do need to close up shop. I have to be here damned early to give Mr. Wu his tea and toast – the man keeps to a regular schedule, I'll give him that."

Gojyo rose and offered Chen his hand, shaking it firmly.

"Chen-san, it's been a pleasure. You have a good night, man."

"You take care, friend Gojyo," the steward said, "and don't let old grumpy-ass give you too much shi… stuff!" He grinned and gave a small salute as Gojyo smiled back and closed the dining car door behind him, waving over his shoulder as he went.

As Gojyo wended his way back through the train to the sleeping car, he was beginning to feel a little better about things. Sanzo seemed like he was being a little more cooperative, or at least less resistant, and Gojyo was feeling more confident that he should be able to keep the monk safe to Chang'an and back, especially now that he could count on having a knowledgeable ally in Mr. Chen for this leg of the trip. He was feeling almost mellow, aided of course by the substantial amount of alcohol he had consumed, as he opened the door at the end of the last car before his sleeping car.

A strong blast of frigid mountain air hit him as he opened the door, and he turned his shoulder into it as he stepped forward, closing the door behind him. Just at the moment he stepped out into the open darkness of the platform between the two cars, a freak cyclonic gust of nearly-arctic wind swept down off of the mountain peaks and ploughed over the entire train: cold, wet, black, and immensely powerful. The whole long line of cars shuddered and creaked against the rails under the onslaught of the battering gust. As the gale threaded between the two cars where he stood, Gojyo was instantly knocked flat, barely having time to grapple at the bars of the platform railing as the wind tried mercilessly to rip him off of it and fling him out carelessly into the night like a rag doll. He scrabbled madly to maintain his hold as the gust ripped and pulled at his body. And then, just as quickly as the freakish wind had come on, it subsided, and Gojyo was able to pull himself to a safe place on the other side of the platform and slip inside, trembling and badly-shaken.

"Holy fuck," he panted, his teeth still chattering from both fright and the frigid sudden chill of the blast, "what the hell was that?" The Ikkou had spent a fair amount of time during their travels in lots of high mountains and in all the various terrains surrounding them, and been in some pretty killer storms, and they had never encountered anything remotely like what Gojyo had just experienced. Suddenly Gojyo had a one-track mind on checking on Sanzo, and bolted through the car to his compartment.

The monk was sitting up on the edge of his berth, looking sleepy and slightly dazed, as Gojyo struggled with the lock and darted in, wide-eyed, his heart still hammering.

"Are you ok?" he gasped.

Sanzo scrubbed his hand over his face sleepily and blinked at Gojyo.

"Huh? Wha…?"

"The whole fucking train just shook like mad, Sanzo! Big goddamn wind! Are you ok?"

Sanzo blinked twice again, and scowled at Gojyo, still confused.

"What the fuck are you on about now?" he grumbled, leaning back against the wall of his berth groggily. He looked up at Gojyo again, and snickered a little for no apparent reason.

Satisfied that the monk was clearly unharmed, Gojyo decided to just let it drop, and flopped down next to him on the berth, still trying to catch his breath.

"Never mind," he sighed. "I'm just glad you're ok," he said happily. "Can't let anything happen to my cherry-chan," he grinned.

"Oh, great gods, don't start that again," Sanzo groaned wearily. He looked at Gojyo again and rolled his eyes, barely managing to suppress a grin before looking away.

"Aw, c'mon," Gojyo wheedled, nudging Sanzo with his knee, "you know you find me irresistible."

"No, in point of fact, I find you highly resistible," Sanzo said, searching for and finding his smokes and lighting one. Gojyo gave him his best puppy-dog-eyes to beg for one for himself, as he realized he had forgotten to buy his own cigarettes when he had gotten caught up in his conversation with Chan. Exasperated, Sanzo grudgingly handed him one of his own and the lighter.

"See, you know you really can't resist me," Gojyo crowed. "What would you say if I told you I almost got blown clear off of the train just now?"

"Only almost?" Sanzo asked, looking up at him, the spreading grin pulling at the corners of his mouth again in spite of himself.

"Yeah – almost – I was hanging on for dear life."

"I'd say 'close but not good enough.'" Sanzo said dryly. He turned once again and looked at Gojyo, shook his head, and snorted.

"Aw c'mon, baby…" Gojyo cajoled. Suddenly he began to notice that he was definitely the subject of some kind of exceptional amusement for the monk for some reason. He interrupted himself abruptly, "will you please tell me what the fuck you find so goddamn funny?" Sanzo was not someone at all prone to spontaneous or casual laughter.

Now Sanzo began giggling, outright giggling, as he looked at Gojyo. Gojyo stood and faced him, hands on his hips. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, "have you finally gone shithouse mouse? This is not like you, Sanzo."

Unfortunately, what he thought was a quite serious demand only made the monk laugh harder. He looked down at himself, but nothing seemed amiss. "C'mon, Sanzo…" He really seriously began to wonder if Sanzo was cracking up, as in finally mentally losing it, for real - this fit of laughter was just so completely out of character for him.

"Mirror!" Sanzo cackled between fits of giggles. "Look in the fucking mirror, you asshole!"

Gojyo moved to look in the mirror over the sink.

Apparently the same heinous wind that had nearly thrown him off of the train had also completely discombobulated Gojyo's beloved coiffure, and the result was pretty unfortunate. He had used a new hair gel that morning, which, as it turns out, he had clearly used far more of than he had needed. To complicate matters, the dining car had been very warm, and between that and the booze, Gojyo had been sweating, a lot, leaving his hair pretty damp.

The wind's horrendous gusts had played fast and loose with his sodden, overly-gelled hair, fixing his shorter parts on the sides pretty firmly at three-o'clock and nine-o'clock angles to his face, and his "antennae" now shot straight upwards, pointing fixedly at twelve o'clock as they bobbed around only slightly. The remainder of his hair, the long parts, looked pretty much as if it had been styled with an egg-beater.

The poor vain kappa was mortified when he first looked at himself, and his vanity nearly made him angry with the monk for laughing at him so much. But it was such a rare thing to get to actually see and hear Sanzo laugh… And he had to admit, when he looked at himself, he did look pretty damned ridiculous. As he studied himself in the mirror, the blond's giggles became infectious. Gojyo reached up and pulled his one of his antennae down, trying to bend it back into its normal downward curve, but it sprang valiantly back straight upwards with an almost audible "sproing", at which point Sanzo completely doubled over, his hands grabbing his sides, howling.

"You don't have to enjoy this quite so much, you know," Gojyo said, still laughing at himself.

Sanzo dabbed at the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "Goddamn, I wish I had a camera. Goku and Hakkai would pay good money to see this."

"I'll pay you good money NOT to tell them about it," Gojyo giggled.

"No fuckin' way, kappa," Sanzo grinned evilly. "This is priceless."

Gojyo studied the man opposite him on the bench. Laughing as he was, Sanzo's eyes were wider open than Gojyo had ever seen them, and the moisture from the tears made them glitter like amazing, unearthly-bright purple gems. Gojyo was awestruck. He didn't want to stop and analyze it, he didn't even want to take one millisecond to think about it and possibly lose his nerve or somehow damage what was so clearly magic about the moment. He just suddenly dropped to one knee in front of Sanzo, slid one arm around his slim waist and pulled him close, and planted a long slow careless kiss on that beautiful laughing mouth.

Sanzo's first reaction was a loud scream inside his head telling him that he should pull away. It was wrong, the rational brain said – clearly, obviously wrong. He knew it was wrong. Every brain cell and speck of logic and reason he ever had was telling him it was wrong, that he just had to stop. Now.

But everything else in his body was completely, totally overriding his head this time. Maybe it was because he'd had too much to drink, and was still a little sleepy. Maybe it was all the endorphins released by laughing. Maybe it was both, or maybe it was the goddamn phase of the moon - but his guard was definitely down. Normally he would have been so much better at fighting it off. But as Gojyo pressed his lips against Sanzo's, so firm and so soft at the same time, gentle yet insistent, the priest's arms suddenly acquired a mind of their own as they quickly slid around the waist and up the broad back of the hanyou, pulling him closer and holding him tight.

Sanzo's rational brain was beyond horrified as it heard that first small urgent groan that somehow managed to escape his own throat as Gojyo deepened the kiss. Nowhere in Sanzo's experience had there ever been anything that felt remotely like this: the fact that this was so new and so different confounded him, and made it even more difficult for his reason to prevail. No tenderness had ever been associated with sex, nothing like that which the kappa was showing him with his kisses and touches now. Physical contact had always been forced and shameful, and there had always been pain. Lots of pain. But there was no pain in this now, other than the dissonance coming from his brain, and that was quickly being overshadowed by the rush of what was new, and good.

He had to force himself to remember to breathe. It was like his body stopped doing anything else in those first long moments except responding to that kiss: automatically trying to learn to return with his own mouth and tongue what Gojyo was doing to him, those clever, wonderful things that felt so very, very good. Then suddenly he was breathing freely again, and Gojyo's lips had moved from his mouth to his neck, where they were suckling and biting, sending little hot spikes of pleasure down Sanzo's spine. Sanzo couldn't stop himself from leaning into Gojyo, and before he knew it that groaning sound was coming from his throat again, only louder this time. He began to feel dizzy as an unfamiliar heat coursed through him and settled in his groin, his hands clenching convulsively into Gojyo's sides as he started to tremble slightly. He couldn't have said why, but he couldn't seem to stop his hands from clenching and shaking any more than he could stop anything else that was happening.

This was so far from what had ever happened to him, either in his ugly past, or alone in his own bed, as to be another thing altogether: night from day, sun from moon, and as Sanzo's brain began to grudgingly let that in, bit by little bit, the dissonance between his brain and his body began to quiet, just a little. But still, the tide of sensation threatened to overwhelm him, to engulf him: after so long, it was almost too much, as if all of Sanzo's nerve endings had suddenly been set fire.

"Easy, babe, easy," Gojyo purred, as if he was gentling a wild animal. "We have all the time in the world. We can take this as slow or as fast as you want, ok?"

Gojyo said it, wanting so much for it to be true, as much to convince himself as to convince Sanzo. He knew all-too-well that the brutal truth was that at any minute, the regular old pissed-off touch-me-not Sanzo mode could click back in, and the whole scenario could change literally in a heartbeat. He could be dumped on his ass on the cold floor of the train, with a gun in his temple, or at the very least, Sanzo's fist in his face. Magic all gone bye-bye.

But – amazingly - Sanzo simply nodded. He was looking up at Gojyo, his eyes still wide, but different now. Glazed. Intense. Surprised. And…just the faintest glimmer there…vulnerable. Gojyo's heart thumped madly in his chest like a flounder on a pier.

He dropped down to squat lower before him, and began to pull Sanzo's t-shirt over his head, keeping eye contact with the priest every fraction of every second, lest he bolt. With the shirt off, he began at the small hollow of the elegant porcelain throat and started kissing a trail down Sanzo's chest , stroking him softly with his large hands as he did. Sanzo shivered from the light ghost-touches of lips across his flesh, and curled his spine towards him as Gojyo's mouth surrounded the small flat nipple, teasing it to rise up into his mouth gently with his lips and teeth.

"Nnnn… oh gods," Sanzo shuddered. "Yes." That was the answer, wasn't it? Sanzo's brain grew more and more quiet, fading into the background.

"Nice?" Gojyo asked.

"Mmmm. Nngg. Yeah." Sanzo looked down at the head of the man ministering to his body, a jolt of energy surging through him as he witnessed the incredibly erotic image of Gojyo, his eyes half-closed in bliss, carefully laving his nipple with his tongue. He had never had any understanding of what voyeurism was about until that moment. Only one thing…

"Wait…" Sanzo said, stopping him, his hands on his shoulders. "One minute…"

"What?" Gojyo looked up, terrified he was going to lose his precious momentum with Sanzo if anything stopped them for even a second, afraid that the monk was having second thoughts, that he would change his mind about the whole thing.

Suddenly Sanzo was rifling around in his kit bag beside the bed, and came back up with something Gojyo couldn't see clutched in his hand. Gojyo couldn't believe Sanzo was already looking for that… Surely, no, it couldn't be that easy…

"Turn around and sit down," the monk commanded, pointing to the floor in front of him.

"What the fuck, Sanzo?"

"Do it."

Dismayed, but apparently having no choice, Gojyo complied, having absolutely no idea now what Sanzo had in mind.

Suddenly he felt a slow gentle tugging at his hair with a hairbrush. Bit by bit, Sanzo began working out the unruly gelled parts, and beating the disheveled red mop back into some semblance of its usual arrangement.

"If we're going to do this, there's no fucking way I can take you seriously with that ridiculous hair," Sanzo said dryly as he slowly, steadily brushed away at the mass of tangled red silk.

"Mmmm, not a problem," Gojyo purred as he reveled under the monk's surprisingly tender touch. He leaned into the brush like a contented cat being petted, curling each hand loosely around Sanzo's ankles as he fell back against his lap. He could definitely wait a few minutes, for this. This was almost better than sex – at least as good…

Sanzo stopped brushing for a moment.

"Did you hear that?"

"What? I didn't hear anything. Keep brushing."

"I heard a tapping sound outside our door, then it stopped."

"I didn't hear it. You're hearing things. My hearing is better than yours. I would have heard it. Keep brushing."

Sanzo shrugged, and resumed brushing Gojyo's hair, but he could have sworn he heard it again, a few minutes later: a faint, rhythmic tapping, as if something was slowly moving down the aisle of the sleeping car just outside their door.

~TBC~


End file.
